Knighthood
by The Bluefire Phoenix
Summary: They say Batman is dead. That he died four years ago at the hands of the Russian Mob. I never believed those rumors. He's out there somewhere, I know it. Gotham needs its hero back and I will track him down across continents and through the depths of hell if I have to. Criminals beware, the Dark Knight will return!
1. Chapter 1

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

An _Operation Dusk Hour_ Tale...

_Knighthood_

Chapter I: Next of Kin

My name...

My name is...

My name is John Blake and I remember the night Batman disappeared. Not many people left who care about that night five long years ago anymore. Five years of darkness at the hands of criminals. The Dent Act died on the floor, no one bothered to defend it. Not after so many supporters met violent ends at the hands of thugs. The power vacuum was filled by the Russian Mob, quickly becoming the top dog in Gotham thanks to the Joker attacks.

The Batman was last seen heading into the docks. There was a massive fire fight somewhere inside. Police tried to investigate only to find roadwork and other large obstacles preventing them from doing their job.

By the time the cops made it into the district, all they found was an empty Batmobile. I heard Wayne Enterprises won the bid to examine the vehicle. Their conclusion was indecisive and the file closed.

I knew ever since then that I had to find out what happened to Batman. He was a hero. In the five years of his absence, we all realized that fact. Most of us believed he was gone forever. However the way that he simply vanished after one night never sat well with me. I had to find him; I had to know why he left Gotham in its darkest hour!

With the skills I acquired at the Gotham City Police Academy, I thought tracking him would have been easy. It turned out it wasn't enough. So I did what I could to keep the city safe while I searched for clues about Batman. One day, about two years ago, everything changed.

I had just wrangled in a couple of con artists selling high-quality "off-brand" merchandise that I ran into _him_.

Back then I wore just a black hoody, some jeans, and some pads. The hood mixed with some dark face paint around my eyes obscured my identity, not that it mattered that much. The pads kept me from incurring serious injuries outside of gunfire.

My weapon of choice was usually whatever was handy. Mostly old pipes and boards. More often than not I fell back on my martial arts training from the academy.

That night though, there was something strange in the air. I walked out of the alley where I left the cons, and _he_ was just...there. Under a street light across the road dressed in a trench coat and a fedora and masked in a silhouette. He motioned for me to approach.

I did, can't say why. But I did. His collar was popped, further obscuring his face. He greeted me with my full name. Something almost nobody knew.

My attention was firmly his. He continued to speak. His voice undercut with paranoia. His tone barely reached above a whisper. Occasionally he started mumbling things completely unrelated to the subject at hand before jumping back on topic. That topic being my career as a vigilante.

I told him that I was doing the best I could and that I had other objectives as well. He seemed sympathetic and claimed he could help me in exchange for working cases for him.

He then baited me with the first clue on the Batman's disappearance. Only I never mentioned Batman.

Turns out he was a shiftier bastard than he ever let on. Pretty impressive considering his introduction. We never spoke face to face after our first encounter. Every time I changed my phone number, he somehow knew it without me telling him. When he gave me information for a case he wanted me on, it was more like the first bread crumb in a long trail.

It was annoying but I guess he believed I could figure it out. They were good exercises and he helped me along my main case.

Most of the evidence had been eroded away by time. I only found a few bullet holes and burn marks. But I was able to piece together a violent, but contained struggle. Among the leftovers was something small, something the average person would easily miss. It was a rusting "Batarang," a bat shaped throwing star essentially.

They were one of Batman's calling cards. One of the rarer ones actually. But it was proof that Batman was here. He was struggling with someone throughout the docks. Grenade fragments here scorch marks there.

Now I had traded in my hoody for a racing jacket I had found. It was black with a blue stripe across the chest. I installed some metal plates in the chest for added protection. I added a slim domino mask to the mix to hide my identity. And at last I had put together a path to the area where Batman had most likely ended up with the help of my contact.

I was sailing to where that path led me. Southeast Asia. It took some digging but I learned that a single ship left the Gotham's docks not long after the fighting stopped. It cleared the port with barely any paperwork. I had traced its route all the way to the South China Sea before it just disappeared.

That ship was the key. Yeah I had a lot of ground to cover. But there was one port of call that my contact recommended. A city in Thailand called...

"Roanapur? Are you out of your fucking mind kid!" a middle aged Filipino man shouted at me. I had smuggled myself from Gotham all the way to the Philippines. There I met this fellow in a bar near the Manila docks.

"Yes, I'm seeking passage to Roanapur," I repeated. He was supposed to be one of the greatest smugglers in the region. Yet he was acting like I asked for the moon.

He put his hand down on the table. "Listen kid, had you come five years ago I'd have tacked on an extra grand to a oneway ticket. But today I wouldn't go near that city if God himself came down and told me to," the captain simply stated.

I straightened up. "Why not?" I asked. The captain leaned in close and looked me in the eye.

"Because of the damn Russians. About five years ago they started ripping the city apart for no real reason. Things are still hot between the Ruskies and the Triad. Place is a damn war zone," he whispered.

That was it. The Russians captured Batman in Gotham and were taking him to their base for some reason when he escaped! Not wanting to let him escape, they destroyed the city looking for him. I bet he was still there causing them havoc! I couldn't help but wonder if my contact knew about this ahead of time.

Well it was time to bring Batman home. I was simply too small to defend Gotham on my own. We need our hero back. "Please, I need to get there," I pleaded. The captain sighed.

"I'll give you a discount ticket out of pity for your suicidal dream to Bangkok and get you in touch with someone who knows the best overland route. But I sure as hell ain't sailing there," the captain declared.

He was adamant about not going there. I rubbed my temples. The place sounded extremely dangerous but there was enough there worth investigating.

"Very well, what's your price?" I whispered.

"For you, two hundred American up front," the captain offered. I nodded.

"When do we sail?" I asked.

"Tomorrow at dawn. Be at berth six with my money."

I nodded in agreement and stood up. Two hundred dollars! That was dipping deep into my cash reserves. But I was too close to worry about that now.

Soon I popped out of a box in a Bangkok warehouse to find an young man waiting for me. He was my guide to the city of Roanapur. Bangkok was alive as we stepped out onto the streets. My guide got me through a few police check points and we were on our way. He was silent through the city, but relaxed once we were in the countryside.

"Why do you go to Roanapur?" he asked as we cruised along in an old Jeep.

"I'm looking for someone," I answered. What would be the point of lying.

The guide laughed. "Roanapur isn't a city you go looking for someone," he said. "Unless you are a cop."

He turned to me. "Are you a cop?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm not a cop."

"Then why go to Roanapur?"

"Like I said, I'm looking for a...a friend," I repeated.

"I hate to say it, but your friend is most likely dead."

"The Russian thing, I heard. But my friend is a bit tougher than the usual person," I countered. The guided skeptically nodded.

"Your friend must be insane, hiding in Roanapur."

"Probably," I agreed.

The rest of our trip was nothing but small talk and by the end of the week, we had made it. A noose hung at the start of the bridge that led to the city. Law and order stopped there.

Roanapur was a legend even in the underworld. When my contact first informed me of the city, I had a hard time verifying its existence. The internet failed to have anything more than a few cryptic posts. Most of the crooks I interrogated recognized the name to some degree but called it a dream. But here it was: the heart of darkness.

The streets smelled of death and booze. Gunfire echoed all around, mixing with a dozen or so languages and accents. Several buildings looked like they were bombed out and apartment complexes appeared more like brick fortresses. Several burned out cars lined the streets.

Two other cars came screaming in from around the corner. They were heatedly exchanging bullets. I moved off to the side to evade the stray shots. One of them spun out and crashed into a building.

I pulled out the old Batarang and clenched it in my fist. Now was the time to get to work.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Hello and welcome to _Knighthood_. To anyone new to me or my work, this is a sequel to _Nightfall_. I'd recommend checking that out first, but you are welcome to proceed and you can always ask me a question about what's going on or what a character is referencing. Grant it I will point you to read _Nightfall_ and/or quote it.

While previously my goal was to go over some of the things that bothered me about the modern view of Batman, this time I'm going to focus on legacy. Legacy is one of those fundamental human characteristics that we spend literally our fretting over to one degree or another. Legacy is universal and very broad so there will be a lot of ground to cover. The other goal is about the rise of heroes in an age that seems unfit for heroes.

You might just see some familiar faces, but because I'm using the Dark Knight Trilogy they might be a little different than their proper counter parts. So don't expect magic and full blown superpowers is what I'm saying. I know, I'm disappointed too. But think of this as a sort of thought exercise in how people would respond to something like Batman showing up.

This is part one of the opening Blitz so please read on.

Until next time, now there is a god {a god we've all forgotten}


	2. Chapter 2

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter II: Renegade

Fucking Roanpur. I could see the old Buddha statue in the distance off the bow of my little sailboat. Never thought I'd make it back to that shit heap of a town before my number was called. It had been four years since I left.

The city was far worse than I remembered. Half the place was blown up and the rest of it was falling apart. Not that I was in much better shape. Dark heavy bags weighed down my eyes which were bloodshot from caffeine and liquor. My hair was longer now, reaching the small of my back and hadn't been able to dye it in years.

I never really give a damn about my personal appearance. But seeing the city again reminded me that a ton of shit had changed since that night.

And it was a hell of a night. It was about four years ago. Four crazy years. I still wasn't sure what happened. It started when Rock disappeared in the city about two weeks after we got back from Gotham. I had just fully recovered from my fight with the Batman. Rock had been in and out like that a lot. He usually made it back by sundown.

Not that night. I volunteered to go bring him back. Hell was bubbling closer to the surface. Balalaika's troops were out in force. Boss Chang from the Hong Kong Triad responded with his own men. The other crime bosses quickly joined in too.

They mostly kept to their own turf. It turned some streets into a multiracial mockup of the DMZ between the Koreas. I had to tread carefully.

There was a tension on the streets. Everyone with half-a-brain had taken cover. The rest of us were either too stupid to hide or too excited to get in the action. Russians were starting to sweep buildings. Various screaming and shouts started afterward.

It wasn't like Sis to stir shit up like that. Had she decided to just take the town? No, even I knew that the city couldn't be run by a single crime boss.

Things were heavy and quiet for that first hour. Around one in the morning was when things went to hell. No one figured out who shot first. But soon bodies started filling the streets.

Rock was nowhere to be seen. I was getting desperate. Bullets were flying all over. I never found him that night.

Nobody knew where he was. I spent what little time I had over the next year trying to find him. Some of that bastard's tact must've rubbed off of me at some point because I got more information just talking to people rather than my usual method of shoving a Cutlass in their face.

A lead finally broke about a year after we had returned from Gotham. I broke off from Lagoon Company as soon as I could. Rock was apparently in Bangkok. I was going to catch him and ask him what the fuck his deal was. He wasn't going to walk out on us without a word.

So I smuggled myself to the city. He wasn't there. But I found a lead that said he was in Singapore. Thus began a long journey of following rumors across the Pacific. Each new rumor was vaguer and more absurd than the last.

Now he was apparently back in Roanapur. Honestly I wasn't sure if I was happy to be back. It was going to fucking great to get some real action after some pretty quiet years. A few bar fights and low key shootouts with petty thugs weren't what I called real action.

At the same time though, I liked the quiet. Being away from the city was relaxing. The stress of finding Rock really ruined it.

I brought my ship into dock. There was hardly anyone around. Usually there were at least a few smugglers or con artists hanging around. A bomb went off somewhere in the city.

Fucking perfect. I moored my boat just a few blocks down from Lagoon Company's headquarters. The smell of death and decay filtered back into my nose. It was like an aphrodisiac. I felt the bug itch as I holstered my guns. I hadn't been able to wear my weapons out in public in months.

Normally I had to wear a jacket to hide them or abandon them all together because the more "civilized" parts of the world frowned on open carry weapons. What bullshit. I stepped onto the dock and headed for the Yellow Flag.

I was mostly curious if it was still standing. I tied my hair back as I entered the street. Should have cut it before coming back, but I guess I had gotten a little soft in my years away. Hopefully there wasn't going to be a fight.

Shapes moved in the shadows. Most likely they were survivors of Balalaika's private little war, scavenging what they could in the lulls. I had seen a few other places like this in my travels. I never stuck around long because they were rarely destinations.

I saw one of the forms pull out a cellphone and wander off. My heart beat started to rise as I came across the Yellow Flag. Or Bao had gone through a massive remarketing campaign and rebranded the place as the White Flag, seeing as that what was flying above the establishment.

The inside was still the same as I remembered, mostly. There were fewer seats and the shelves were looking a little lacking. Business was slow seeing as I was the only person in the bar at the moment. Bao looked up from his cleaning. A million things flashed through his eyes.

"Revy? Is that you?" he hesitantly asked.

"No it's fucking Marilyn Monroe, of course it's me," I angrily growled as I walked up to the bar. Bao put down the glass and grabbed his shotgun. He aimed it at me, forcing me to stop. "What the fuck Bao, I haven't done shit to you in years!"

His eyes were alight with panic. "Get the fuck out of here Two-hands!" he shrieked.

"What the hell man?" I asked. Bao looked confused.

"Sorry Revy, but Balalaika put a price on your head," he said. "I'd like to help you, but you're a wanted woman in these parts." He motioned towards the bulletin board. There was my face on a wanted poster next to a similar one of Rock! Sis wanted us alive for fifty grand me and one hundred for Rock. What the hell was going on? What kind of fucked up planet did I land on where Rock has a higher bounty than me?

I ran out of the bar. A group of seven ragged punks had gathered outside in the dusk. Most had simple melee weapons but a couple had AKs. They all looked half-starved and foaming at the mouth.

Every one of them looked angrier than the hounds of hell. I drew my guns. None of them flinched. "Get the fuck back!" I yelled. They took a step forward.

"No, Two-hands. You're our ticket out of this shit stain of a city!" one of them retorted. I cocked my pistols and started to plan out the best way to Lagoon Company. It was going to be fun.

Two of the punks on the side went to flank me. If I took both of them out at the same time, then the three in the center would rush me before I could re-establish my stance. Even if I took out the flankers and the center force, the two guys with the rifles still had me pinned. I'd need a shield.

Adrenaline filled my veins. I'd make an arc right to left, taking out the flanker and a center guy on each side. Hopefully the survivor will be stupid enough to keep up the charge. He'd be easy to beat up close quarters and become a bullet blocker.

Alight. Let's go fuckers. I started perfectly.

One to head. Brain splatters. Hits ground.

Two to chest. Heart bursts. Hits ground.

Three to chest. Internal bleeding. Hits ground.

One to head. Eye explodes. Hits ground.

And dodge right. Grab extended arm. Break said arm. Twist owner around.

Bam, go time.

The guys with the AKs were looking nervous now.

"Hey come on guys, let's just leave the woman alone!" my meat shield screamed. Bam. Bam. I took out the gunmen and delivered a coup de grâce to the whiner. Damn, I guess all the good fighters were already dead.

I quickly holstered my guns and walked away. A shot fired from behind. My left arm went numb. Blood started to run down it. I turned around, laying waste to the fucker that survived.

A truck pulled up from around the corner. I heard them speak Russian. It was time to go. I limped down into an alley and started towards Lagoon Company.

I climbed up those familiar stairs and opened the door. Benny was sitting there reading a book. He looked over at me. He smiled for a moment before noticing my arm. "Oh my god, Revy!" he shouted as he ran over to me. I couldn't help but laugh a little as he steadied me.

Benny hadn't changed. Time seemed to have just skipped over him. Even the stubble on his face seemed the same as it was the day I met him.

He took me to the old couch that looked way rattier than I remembered. He quickly grabbed a first aid kit. "So where's Dutch?" I hissed out as Benny applied some rubbing alcohol to my wound. Benny then started to remove the bullet.

"Dutch is out in the Lagoon running an errand. So what are you doing back? I thought Balalaika's bounty on you would have kept you away," Benny responded. He started stitching up my arm.

"Well I just found out about it myself," I replied. "And I heard Rock was back in town so I wanted to check it out."

Benny looked confused. "Kevin said he was in Jakarta," he said.

"What?" I said. I tried to sit up but my arm shot up with pain.

"Easy. Just sleep. We can catch up tomorrow," Benny said from a long way away.

I woke with a start, shooting straight up to the sound of an echoing pitter-patter somewhere in the office. My hands went right for my Cutlasses that were in my holster on the coffee table. Benny left a note.

"Dear Revy, I went out to get some gear. Behave while I'm gone. Help yourself to the fridge. Fucking A," I grumbled as I stood up. With a quick stretch I walked over to the fridge. It was filled with crap and beer. Great.

Another pitter-pater came from the other room. I closed the fridge and walked towards the sound. My heart beat faster and faster.

The next room was empty but I heard something move behind me. I saw a wisp of something disappear. Something fell over with a loud thud. I walked around the corner to see a little kid getting up. My shadow ominously fell over the child.

The kid turned around. My heart stopped and my legs started to quiver. It was like staring into someone sicko's twisted idea of a prank mirror. I saw my eyes and his hair, my cheeks and his jaw.

We shared a moment of recognition. I knew it was _her_. I…I never thought I'd actually see _her_. The kid was a little girl who wore a little dress made out of a bad Hawaiian shirt. The little girl seemed as scared as I was.

I heard the front door open and Benny whistling. He set his things down before walking in on the scene. I turned around to him, my body was quivering. "Is that…is that," I repeated a few times. Benny just nodded.

"Yes Revy, she's Lee," he said, "_your_ daughter."

I don't know how many times I had been shot or punched, but that hurt more than anything else. Next thing I knew, I was sitting across from Benny at the table while Lee played on the floor with some toy cars. I could feel every time she looked over to me. I would turn to meet her gaze but the girl quickly went back to her playing.

"Why'd you keep her?" I asked with as little rudeness as I could muster. Benny shrugged. He passed me a cup of coffee then brought up two fingers.

"One, if your maternal suddenly instincts kicked in we didn't want end up dead after telling you we gave her away. Two, we're your friends Revy. We care about you and we care about Lee," he said.

I looked over at Lee while she was playing. Half her hair was spiked up and the other half was gently patted down. She was a pretty girl with a round face and expressive eyes.

The door opened up and Dutch entered. I apparently drew all his attention. "Well, well I didn't think you'd ever return to Roanapur," Dutch said. He kept walking. "You still looking for Rock, 'cause I just heard he showed up in Honolulu the other day."

"Yeah nice to see you again too Dutch and I am," I retorted.

"Well just get out of here ASAP. I don't want you bring down the wrath of god on us," he grumbled. Dutch walked past me without a second glance.

"I think you should stay awhile, spend time with Lee," Benny said.

I cocked my eyebrow. "Why?" I asked.

"Because she's only ever seen you in pictures and knows you through what very few stories we can tell her. Look, there is no way she'll ever have a normal childhood. It would be stupid to think otherwise. But let her have a memory of her mother," he retorted.

I crossed my arms. "Come on, I'm not her mother. I pushed her out of me and bolted as soon as the doc said I could."

"Then why did you keep her? Dutch said he would have helped you. He'd have taken you wherever you would have liked."

"I don't know I just did okay!" I shouted, jumping to my feet and slammed my fists into the table. I noticed Lee was shaking in fear at the sight of me. I sighed and returned to my seat.

"Look, you must have had her for a reason. Just talk to her, get to know her. That's all I'm asking," Benny requested.

"I'm not meant to be a mom, Benny. As soon as it's dark, I'm getting out of here," I said. Benny just nodded.

Rock wasn't here and that was all that mattered. He valued his own life too much to risk it here. I snuck out the window at nightfall.

Sneaking back to my boat was easy. I started prepping to leave. I heard a creak behind me. My hand instinctively pulled my gun and aimed it…right at Benny and Lee. The girl wore a hat and a backpack along with her dress, and was clutching a picture frame.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I whispered. Benny shook his head.

Lee stared at the. "Mama," she whispered back. "Mama, don't go."

I blinked. "Sorry kid, but I have to," I muttered. I turned around only to feel something lock onto my leg. Lee had wrapped my leg in a hug. Her eyes were staring up at me with tears. I looked back to Benny only to find him walking towards me.

Lee looked up to me. "I…I…I, I guess you can come along if you'd like," I finally said. The little girl nodded. I lifted her onto my boat. Benny shouldered his own backpack. "Are you coming too?"

Benny nodded. "What about Dutch?" I asked.

"He's hiring some part timers until we come back. All of us. You, me, Lee, and Rock," he said. He climbed onto the boat. Had he planned this all along?

The question followed me as I brought the boat out to sea. I watched her sleep. Her gentle breathing raised her chest up and down as she lay under a blanket in the cabin. What the fuck was I doing?

The kid didn't deserve this. But it was probably safer with me out on the sea than in Roanapur. At least Benny had come along too. He knew way more about her than me.

All I knew was that for now it was off to Indonesia and hopefully some answers.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Well nothing major there, guess that's all...

No, I'm kidding. Among the things I get iffy about in fanfiction is adding an OC kid to a pairing. Especially with Rock and Revy in question. I have a hard time seeing those two in a domestic setting like that. Not saying it can't be done, and I'm going to try. Back on topic: part of legacy is children, a literal biological piece of us past down to the next generation. For Revy, being one not prone to long term thinking, Lee is very much a big piece of her legacy, whether she likes it or not. I think it adds a new layer of complexity to play with.

What's in a name? Well for Lee, I wanted something that sounded both eastern and western. It turns out that Lee worked out well. Next was choosing between Li and Lee. I went with the English version mostly because she's grown up with Americans so that makes more sense.

Until next time, what was the wall that was written on {a barrier only of the mind}


	3. Chapter 3

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter III: _Novus ordo seclorum_

The world changed. Batman was the start of it. Something new, something strange. Something I almost missed. Even after he disappeared five years ago, the seeds he planted have taken root. For good and ill.

The world changed. Masked heroes and heroines were once relegated to the realm of popular fiction. Movies, games, novels. Now they were popping up all over the world.

With the good must also come the bad. When a hero arose all too often a villain did as well, and vice versa.

Even so they pushed on. They protected the weak and provided a service to all on the side of justice. The vigilantes had worked hard and were becoming icons, beacons of hope in the grim world.

But all the heroes were held back by one simple fact: they were not Batman. That wasn't an insult. That was a fact.

Batman had access to equipment even I didn't know about. He had years of advanced training mixed with a keen intellect and painful experience. But there was one thing he lacked that these new heroes desperately needed: a successor.

The new heroes tried to follow Batman's example as best they could. But how long could they hold onto a fading memory? Not too long. They needed a living, breathing benchmark.

The world needed a Batman again. One capable of making the calls everyone else was too scared to make. It was almost too late by the time I realized that fact. But I rectified that fact some four years ago.

I hid the Batman from his enemies and the world. All the while I built a collection of informants and connections to keep a pulse on global affairs. I had people from the President of the United States' Press Corp. to the lowliest street thugs in the thief dens of Southeast Asia. They acted as a reservoir of information for me to sift through at later date that allowed me to pursue my real task: finding a successor for Batman.

Recreating the Batman was a fool's errand. Too many things went off in just the right way to create such a man. I wasn't in the game to play such long odds. Instead I needed someone with a similar disposition and was willing to learn from him.

There were many candidates to choose from. Especially in the first year after I hid Batman. The Green Arrow in Star City, a bit too green for me. The Huntress from New York, a good hero but she was too prone to violence. The United Kingdom had The Hood, but he was too much of an enigma. Recently there was Solstice from India. All of them were fine heroes, but not the ones I thought could truly benefit from studying under Batman.

After three year I found a candidate that just might make it. A drop out from Gotham City's Police Academy named John Blake. He had been working the streets for a while by the time I made contact. I tested him relentlessly and finally set him on course to find Batman, a task he eagerly took to. If he was the one we needed, then he would find the Dark Knight at any cost.

That was as far as I could go. It was up to Batman to teach Blake.

I stepped out onto the balcony of my hotel room. The city Jakarta was active in the dusk hours. I set my trench coat out on my bed. In its pockets were specially designed gloves that didn't leave a trace. I played with my fedora over the railing.

Yes it had taken four long years, but I was on the verge of something truly great. Imagine a network of heroes built around a decentralized control system that could allocate resources and provide information on a global scale. No longer would the vigilantes of the world fight alone, but as a unified organization; a league capable of dispensing aid and hope where its members went.

I left my dream for a while to check Blake's status. My sources reported that he had made it to Roanapur.

Roanapur was the start of the end of Batman as we knew him. The Russian mob unleashed a terrible force on the city. It was similar to actions they had taken in Tokyo not long ago that ended in dozens dead, including a young girl.

Roanapur was a center of crime and corruption. To say I wasn't moved by its recent fate would be the height of understatement. I was elated to know that the city was on verge of collapse. It wasn't a hard task to set in motion.

Roanapur was the final crucible. If John Blake could survive the hellhole, he'd be a stronger person. And if he found Batman then he'd be the hero the world needed.

But for now there was a greater concern on the horizon. A man named Slade Wilson had recently turned up in the news. It was only significant in the fact that he was a Colonel in the United States Army and had deserted in Afghanistan two years ago. Wasn't it interesting that two men that served with him were found murdered in Bangladesh days before he was sighted at a rural airport in eastern India?

Even with my network and access, Wilson was still a black hole of a man. After his marriage license, there was his recruitment forms, and then nothing. He was a top secret warrior that was on the loose somewhere in the world that was most likely targeting his former colleagues.

I had to figure out what he was after and what he was capable of. Everything was connected, in one way or another. You couldn't hide from me Wilson. Eventually I will discover the truth as I had done before. For I was the man without a face, nothing more than a shadow in the night,_ I_ was but a Question.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Okay, so unlike _Nightfall_ which circulated evenly, _Knighthood_ will treat every third chapter as a wildcard depending on the needs of the narrative. I'll try to leave clues in the title so that you know which perspective we are going to be in. I think the Question here will be titled with Latin phrases and we'll go from there.

Now we are taking a deeper look at what the Batman's legacy. Yes there's Blake, but he is but a piece in the machinery. For now. The Question will handle most of the large scale piece moving for now.

Also, unlike _Nightfall_ we have mostly separate storylines this time around and I am really excited about it. Well I hope you liked the opening blitz.

Leave a review so you can tell me what you think, and PM any questions or ideas you may have!

Until next time, now two worlds are one {there is no difference between there and here}


	4. Chapter 4

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter IV: How it Goes

The car crash was pretty bad. Not a lot of guys survived the initial crash. I was able to an officer looking guy before the car exploded.

It probably looked pretty strange to see an American lift a large Russian out of a burning jeep. I felt a pang of regret not being able to save more of the men in the car. But I was able to save the big fellow.

He was pretty flipping heavy. We crashed in an old store that had long since been ransacked. I popped open the back door and set my prisoner against a wall. I sat across from him after I put a gag on him and chained him up. It took a minute for me to catch my breath. But I didn't have long because his buddies might already be looking for him.

Finding a bucket of water in the city was pretty easy. The quality of the water was not something I like to go into, but hey it was there. When I made it back my friend was still waiting in the depths of unconsciousness. I slipped on my mask and heaved the water on him.

He woke with a start, looking around in a panicked dazed. I slowly approached him. "Hey there big guy," I calmly greeted. My new friend started rattling around in an attempt to break free.

"It's okay. I'm just going ask you a few questions. Then I promise I'll let you go after you answer them," I said. The man just nodded. "But if you scream when I take off the gag, there will be some blunt force trauma, understand?"

The man nodded again. "Good now let's start with something simple," I said as I removed the gag. "Were you in Gotham about four years ago?"

The man nodded affirmative. Score one for me. "Why were you in Gotham?" I proceeded.

"We were there on orders from Moscow to re-establish our operation," the man answered.

"And what about Batman. Did you have orders to catch him?"

"No. That was the Captain's idea. She...she wanted to catch and make an example him," he seized up a bit.

"How'd you do it? How'd you catch the Batman?"

"The Captain hired an outsider, a guy from Lagoon Company. Uh, Rock was his name. He put it together."

Now we were getting somewhere. This Rock must be one hell of guy if he could catch Batman. He probably had some answers. "Where is Rock now?" I asked. The man shook his head.

"He just vanished about the same time the Batman escaped. See we were waiting for someone from back home to arrive for further orders and then...and then it all went to hell," he stammered. He shook his head.

"What happened?" I pressed.

"A bomb went off near our headquarters. The captain ordered a lockdown but by the time we were deployed he was gone! Wayne was just gone!"

Wayne? Bruce Wayne? He was Batman? I wasn't that surprised. He visited the orphanage I grew up in once. It was in his eyes, in the way he moved. He was not a carefree playboy; no he was carrying the weight of something more.

This also fell in line with the fact that Wayne had retreated to a private property somewhere in the Rockies. He hasn't been seen since. As it turned out he may have been taken away by these mobsters.

I had to be sure we were on the same page. "Do you mean Bruce Wayne?"

The man paused then nodded. "Yeah, Rock put it all together. Said that the Batman was Wayne and it turned out he was right."

Well that was useful. "What about your boss, this captain, what's..."

I heard boots outside. I gagged my prisoner. Someone was yelling in Russian. Guess his friends decided now was a good time for us to stop.

"Well looks like your buddies are here for you. Sorry to cut and run like this but that's just how it goes," I said. I quickly ran out of the back into the ally. The streets were mostly empty. In the distance I saw a white flag.

I took off my mask and slowed to a brisk walk. Up ahead I saw a group of men standing outside of a bar. They were trapping a young woman with long dark hair. She had a tribal tattoo and wore nothing but Daisy Duke Shorts and a tank top along with combat boots.

The girl expertly wielded a pair of pistols. She fiercely shouted at the men. Only two of them were armed with AK-47s, the rest used melee weapons. I tried to formulate a plan to stop them. They moved to fast for me to intervene.

There were about thirty yards between me and them. Even at full speed, the girl would still be overwhelmed before I got there. She started picking them off with cruel accuracy. The attackers were blown away in a red shower.

It seemed to be over after the girl captured one of the melee fighters. The gunman didn't seem to like the situation. That didn't stop the girl from taking them out. She then executed her human shield.

She holstered her weapons with a flourish and continued on. One of the gunmen seemed to have survived. I watched him get a lucky potshot off. The girl took the strike in stride. I heard squealing wheels and the sound of Russian.

The girl took off into an alleyway and disappeared before I could offer assistance. Though I doubt she'd want it.

The Russians spread out of their vehicles. They formed a perimeter around the bar. Damn, I think East Berlin was less confrontational than this town. I too retreated into the backstreets of Roanapur. I needed someone who knew something about Batman or Bruce Wayne. Hell I wanted to know about that Rock guy.

I passed a man carrying groceries home while contemplating my next move. He had dyed silver hair and a black trench coat. His eyes were shielded behind dark sunglasses that he wore at night. What was wrong with this city? I might as well see if he knows anything.

"Hey…uh, sir, do you speak English?" I asked. The man stopped and turned his head around with deadly intent. I fell into a light stance. The man adjusted his sunglasses.

"What assistance can Lotton the Wizard provide you citizen?" he said in a cold, slick, and well-practice voice. Okay this place is getting weirder by the freaking second.

"Yeah, this might seem weird but do you know a man named Rock?" I asked. Lotton rushed me, placing his free hand over my mouth. He looked all around. His every move was inflected with a certain level of drama.

"Be careful where you say that name stranger. Unsavory characters abound in this neighborhood. They might get the wrong impression from hearing such things," he said. I nodded. He released me.

"But I can assist you, in private. Follow me," Lotton quietly said. He sharply turned around and marched off. I did as he said and he led me down the way to a primitive bunker. It was made from an old basement with a heavy door being the only visible entrance.

Lotton gave an intricate series of knocks on the door. I raised an eyebrow. This place was getting stranger by the second.

The door parted open. A girl with dark hair greeted us. She had a large scar across her throat and a speaker installed where her voice box should've been. Her skin was unhealthily pale, adding to the air of spookiness around her.

"Who's this chump?" the girl asked. Her voice came from the speaker on her throat. It was an eerie, raspy sound that sent a chill down my spine. She was wearing black clothing. Guess I fit in better than I thought.

"He is a wandering nomad, seeking a greater truth!" Lotton answered. I was under the impression that Roanapur was a city of sin and darkness, where only the grim and gritty made it. But this guy acted like he was trying out for the community theater's next feature. The girl seemed to be befuddled yet unmoved by his performance.

"What?" the girl coldly asked. Lotton adjusted his sunglasses.

"He is searching for information on Mr. Rock. I didn't wish his life to be tragically ended by some of the other degenerates searching for him," he replied. The girl just nodded to the stairs that led a little deeper into the facility.

A Chinese woman was carefully aiming a throwing knife in the center of the central chamber. She threw it right in the bull's eye between two other embedded knives. Unlike the girl and Lotton, this woman had an aura of danger that emanated throughout the space. She looked over at us and frowned.

"What hell, Sawyer? When you get boyfriend?" the woman asked in the most broken, heavily accented English I had ever heard.

"No, he's just some guy Lotton picked off the street. He says the kid's looking for Rock," Sawyer answered.

The woman looked me over with a rather unimpressed expression. "You looking for the pussy? Tough shit, dumbass. Haven't seen him since we hired for job four years ago," the woman curtly replied.

"What was this job?" I eagerly asked. The woman didn't look too pleased with my enthusiasm.

"We hired by some guy over phone, used modulator so didn't recognize voice. Told us to meet someone at city limits," the woman stated.

"Yes, it was a crisp, cool night. We waited in our car for our contact to arrive. It turns out that it was Rock and some man with a bag over his head! Rock hand us a letter that instructed us to take him and the mystery man down to a nearby village," Lotton said.

"And when we got back the whole place had gone to hell," Sawyer added.

"Indeed, and that's why we stayed: to render assistants to the weak in this time of bitter struggle!" Lotton proclaimed with a triumphal pose mixed in for effect. The Chinese woman smacked him outside his head.

"No we stay because we get paid big buck, dumbass. Otherwise we get hell out," she berated him.

"Who pays you?" I asked. The woman just shrugged.

"Don't know. Uses Swiss Account. All hush-hush," she said.

It was from there that I began a long trek through the Thai countryside. I bounced from village to village. Few remembered the strangers and fewer still could give me accurate descriptions of them. The accounts were all pretty similar. Two men entered the town, got directions, then left.

They covered their tracks pretty well too. More often than not they asked for multiple directions and disappeared back the way they came. Days upon days passed as I constantly backtracked and recalculated the route the two used. I found myself walking up a hill towards the next village. This one was pretty isolated. I figured this had to be it.

The early morning mist clung to the jungle air. I pulled out my Batarang. I reached the top of the hill and looked down on the town below. The buildings and the forest seemed to meld into a single entity. I felt a sense of wonder as I watch the people go about their work.

My stomach growled something fierce. All I had subsisted on over the past week had been military rations and local plants that my survival guide cleared to be safe to eat. I could smell food being cooked down below. With my pocket book of common Thai phrases at the ready I walked down.

Most of the locals gave me a weary glance. I just smiled and nodded. My nose led me to the local bakery.

It was a quaint place filled with the local scent. Hopefully the young woman working there would give me a discount. She was sweeping the floor in front of the counter. Two children were playing by a small table in the corner. One of them was a little girl and the other one was too young to tell.

She gave me a local greeting that I actually knew a good response to! The woman must have noticed my accent because she looked up with a distrusting expression. She said something to the kids and the girl took her sibling to the back of the store.

The woman circled around, shutting the front door. I felt her arm wrap around my shoulder, placing a knife at my throat!

"I was warned about you, westerner. You are not taking him away," she growled in my ear. Her English was far better than the Chinese mercenary's, but was still heavily accented. But it was coherent at least.

"Listen lady, I'm not here to take anyone away. I'm looking for someone that might have come here about four years ago!" I pleaded.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" the woman hissed.

"Look, I'm searching for Bruce Wayne. I only want to talk to him!" I added. I doubt that would help but why bother lying.

I felt the knife slip away. The woman walked by towards the back of the store. "Wait here," she ordered. She went into the back. I heard an argument start up. The woman returned after twenty minutes and motioned for me to come to the back with her.

I took a deep breath. Moment of truth time.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Feel free to yell at me and call me names. It's okay, I probably deserve it by pulling cliffhangers left and right like that. But you will just have to wait for chapter seven. Because there are other parts of the story to be told. And no I can't just put it in one chapter. I love all you guys, but come on: let me work.

Outside of the jerk move ending, I think this chapter turned out well. I love Lotton and I worked hard to keep him out of _Nightfall_. He's the best though. Oh the worst fighter ever, but damn he is smooth in the stupidest ways.

Lot's of knew information gathered here. Make of that what you will and tell me what you think in a review. PM me any theories you have about what's going on and any ideas or places you think I should go.

Until next time, who was the girl at the Dance of Death {the girl that found the wall}


	5. Chapter 5

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter V: Bullets with Butterfly Wings

The sun was rising in the east making the water shimmer. Few clouds hung in the sky. A cooling breeze danced through my hair. I was sitting on the stern of my sailboat.

Just a few feet away from me was the girl, Lee. She was watching me. It was what she did every morning. I didn't bother chasing her off because she'd return minutes later. She never cried much either. Thank god for that, otherwise I'd have thrown her overboard.

Benny was prepping some coffee in the cabin. The bitter scent of the beans mixed with the sweet smell of the ocean. It was the kind of aroma that made me feel at home. I turned around to see if it was done when I saw my reflection in the window.

I honestly hadn't felt like me since the night before Rock left. That was the nagging thing that bothered me. He just upped and left. It's not like he knew about…well my condition after the fact. Did he have something to do with what happened to Roanapur?

Unlikely. He did everything he was out to do and he was truly one of us. Even so he wasn't one prone to violence and action. That was my specialty.

But as I stared into my own tired eyes and saw my face, I felt something crawling deep inside. It started not long after I met the girl and had grown since I had been around her and Benny. I slammed my fist into the deck with a loud angry groan. Lee stepped back a few steps. Benny simply kept on working.

I stormed into the kitchen. Lee followed a few feet behind. I grabbed a knife from the drawer and rushed back to the stern. I gathered my hair up into the air.

The knife easily glided through my hair. The wind took the freed strands away into the ocean. It felt as if some great weight had been lifted off of me. I took a deep breath and turned around. My hair now only made it down to my neck. But it was almost enough to make me look like a different person.

Benny walked out to me with a cup of coffee. I gladly took it. Lee ran up to Benny. She pulled on her shoulder length black hair that peeked out from her sunhat. "Like Mama," she said to him. Here I thought kids hated haircuts. I doubt it would do her much good. Half her hair always stayed perfect while the other half was always a mess.

Benny shook his head. "You'll have to ask mama about it," he replied. Lee looked up at me. She started to quiver. I just blinked and she darted away.

It had been like this since we first met. The only thing she had spoken to me was what she said at the docks. She just stared at me the rest of the time. What was there to say? Hey kid, sorry I have no interest in your life? Even with that fact, why the hell was _she_ so interested in _me_?

"So Revy, are you ready to make your first big parenting decision?" Benny asked. He took a sip of his drink.

"And what the fuck would that be, Benny?" I growled. Benny shook his head.

"Do you want to cut Lee's hair?" he explained.

I felt my eye twitch a little. "The fuck does that have to do with me? Why don't you do it?" I asked. Benny sighed.

"Look Revy, it's time you took some responsibility in your life," he bluntly shot back. He stared right at me through his glasses. I could see some legitimate anger in his eyes. No not anger. Resentment?

"What?" I hissed.

"You ran off as soon as you could. You left your daughter with your friends and went gallivanting after Rock without so much as a word to us," Benny continued.

"Don't you think he owes us an explanation?" I countered. Benny nodded in agreement.

"Yes he does, but you should have talked to us about it. We would have helped you!" Benny shouted. He leaned in close to me.

"Now what I'm _saying_ is that you chose to have Lee, that was your decision and I respect it. What I'm _asking_ is for you to take responsibility for that decision. To be a better person than Rock; he's been gone her whole life and could very well never be. But you have a chance to be a part of it now," Benny whispered. I felt a chill run down my spine.

Me, be a better person than Rock? That's a fucked up notion if I ever heard one. And what about this taking responsibility crap? I didn't owe her nothing and I sure as hell didn't want anything from her. But as me and Benny squared off, I realized that he wasn't backing down.

I kicked the deck. "Fine I'll talk to her I guess, if that will make you happy," I grumbled. Benny was my friend, probably my only one at that point. It wasn't worth it having him pissed at me the whole time we were out there.

"That's all I'm asking," he replied with a nod.

I walked up to the bow to find Lee sitting there. She was looking at the growing coast of Java coming over the horizon. Her head turned away from me. I sat across from her. My fingers danced up and down on the deck. I sighed. "So…ah, you want hair like mine?" I tentatively asked.

Lee looked over to me. She nodded. I motioned for her to come over to me. The girl reluctantly did so.

I took off her sun hat and set it aside. Lee gasped a bit at the close contact as I began gathering up her wild hair. I carefully placed my knife at about where I cut my own hair. "Sure you want to do this?" I asked.

The girl nodded. I made one quick stroke and removed the hair. Lee imminently jumped up and ran to the bathroom. I joined Benny back at the stern. He looked rather pleased with himself.

Lee quickly ran up to the blonde man and tugged at his shirt. "Like mama!" she squealed. I tried not to roll my eyes and started to sail us into Jakarta. I didn't see what the big fucking deal was.

We docked about thirty minutes later. Getting out of customs took about an hour of conjoining and bargaining with a couple of officers. But we finally made it into the city. Benny kept a hand on Lee, guiding her through the crowd.

The city was bustling with action, just not the action that Roanapur provided. This was a city of living. "So who called you about Rock?" I asked Benny once we were out of the docks.

"Alex from the Cartel. Said he saw Rock wandering around downtown a few days ago," Benny answered.

We stopped a restaurant to eat. Benny was smart enough to bring extra cash. We had just ordered when Benny stood up.

"I have to make a call," he said. He went over to the payphones in the back. Who knew that those were still a thing? I was waiting for our drinks to arrive when Lee started wriggling.

"Mama, have to go," she moaned. I sighed and walked her to the bathroom. Benny was still on the phone.

"We made good time, what can I say? Hmm, I know but it just sort of happened. Alright, bye," Benny said. He hung up the phone just as Lee went into the bathroom.

"Who was that?" I asked him.

"Uh…Dutch," Benny said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and went back to the table.

About an hour later, we had entered the lair of a gangster. Not your average gangster though. Alex de Rojo was not a man who engaged in the typical vices of the men of his station. He lived in a simple apartment a few miles from his business front. He never went to clubs. Hell I don't even think he touched alcohol.

While I never trusted a man without a habit, the Cartel sure did. If you bought heroin anywhere in Southeast Asia or Australia, odds are Alex had a hand in the packaging and the shipping.

We met the man the private office he kept across the street from his business. Alex was an average Columbian man who kept an air of legitimacy about him. He wore high end business casual and kept a carton of cigars on his desk.

He looked rather surprised at our arrival. "I must say Two-hands I'm surprised to see you still kicking. Especially after that Ivan Bitch put a price on your head," he greeted us. I reached for one of my pistols. "Not that I have an interest in collecting. I prefer not to stir the pot when it isn't necessary."

I relaxed my hand. Lee wandered over to his book shelf and started looking at the volumes. She at least had the decency not to touch them. Alex paid her no mind.

"So I heard you saw Rock around here," I said. Alex nodded.

"Yeah, I think anyway. He looked like him that's for sure. He seemed really paranoid, like someone was after him," he said. "Anyway I was going to invite him to dinner, see if I could negotiate a new shipping charge with Lagoon Company but I got busy and work and you know."

"What was he doing?" I asked.

"I don't know he was talking to the captain of a freighter bound for Port Moresby. It left a few hours ago," Alex added.

I slammed my fist into Alex's desk. "Damn it," I growled.

Benny adjusted his glasses. "You sure it was Port Moresby?" he asked. Alex nodded.

"I make it my business to know where everything is coming and going in this city."

My body reached out and I grabbed Alex by the collar and yanked him forward. "Listen Revy, that's all I saw. Sorry I couldn't be more use to you. Now if you'd please leave, I'm expecting a call," Alex rather calmly insisted. I threw him aside with a growl.

The three of us started back to the ship. Goddamn it, what the fuck was he doing? We were so fucking close. But _no_ he has to scurry away again.

"Don't worry Revy. We'll catch him eventually," he said.

"I've been so close for so long. It's like he doesn't want to be found," I muttered. Something didn't feel right. I looked around. "Where's Lee?" I asked. Benny stopped and searched. I went back the way we came just in time to see the wisp of her dress go behind an alleyway.

I sprinted after her, ready to draw my weapon. Lee was staring at a man standing on the other side on an empty street. He wore a brown trench coat, and a matching fedora which he was holding in place with his arm. An ominous shadow obscured his face. I drew my pistol.

The man instantly encased himself in a cloud of dense smoke. I charged forward to find him gone. He had vanished!

My nerves must were on edge. The man wasn't really threatening and there wasn't anything else wrong. Whatever, must be starting to lose it a bit. I holstered my gun.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing?" I asked Lee as I pushed her out of the alley.

"Dada, tink ah saw Dada," Lee said in a low, almost ashamed tone. She probably just saw some office dweeb on his way home and mistook him for Rock. Kids were stupid like that.

"Well tough break kid, your dad ain't here," I said. It was time to keep this wild goose chase alive by going to a place I hadn't been before.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Oh boy, what fresh hell is this?

I enjoyed writing this chapter. I know it's kind of a repeat of chapter two, but I think I added enough new stuff and moved on. Surprisingly I do know what I'm doing. Sort of.

I tried to keep Lee and Revy as unbalanced as I could. After all, Revy would probably take to parenting the same way a fish takes to deserts. How do you guys like Lee so far? More of her, less of her, same of her?

Let me know with a review. PM me any theories you'd like to discuss with me and any ideas or places you think I should go.

Until next time, did the girl say anything {she only wept as the wall crumbled}


	6. Chapter 6

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter VI: Toulon

The wind swept steppes of Central Asia spanned around me. This was an ancient land. Its history was ancient, reaching back to the time when man used it as a staging area to begin its conquest of the rest of the planet but now was little more than a post-communist backwater surrounded by wannabe superpowers, the War on Terror, and economic uncertainty.

I never liked this part of the world. The weather was finicky, the people distrusting after years of oppression, and I didn't care for the food. But it was a good place to lay low and a place where I could easily dictate terms. Such was the life of a black-ops soldier. Well that's what I was before I deserted.

Uncle Sam knew me as Slade Wilson, US Army Colonel that served multiple tours in the first Gulf War as well as the next one and Afghanistan. But the CIA knew me as Operative DS13. I was one of the Spooks that not even the President was privy to.

My unit was primarily responsible of gathering intelligence on and elimination of low visibility high priority targets. They were the people you never really heard of but still presented a threat to national security. We also were sent in to bring local warlords to our cause, with no limit on means. It was quite the experience. We tracked people and escaped pursuers in the wildest locations all over the globe. Our ultimate goals were to destabilize countries and protect nation interests.

That was years ago. Eventually I was pulled back into the regular forces, given a new rank and shipped off to Afghanistan under a gag order. They might as well have sent me back into the civilian sector. Collateral damage, civilian casualties, budgets? I hadn't needed to worry those things since the mid-eighties.

I did my job to the best of my abilities. After a year out there, I was done. I wanted out and when the opportunity arose about two years I broke off. It took me two years to figure out my next move. I traveled to many places I went in my youth. We hadn't done anything to improve their lives or even keep America safe.

The things we did…the world needed to know.

I'd make Langley unveil their dirty laundry list. It was a decades' long list that would utterly ruin the United States' reputation, probably beyond repair. It was a small price to pay for the truth.

Firstly, I needed some assistance. I sent a call to my old handler to meet me at an old Soviet airbase in eastern Kyrgyzstan. It took me a few days to get there after I left India. I found my friends murdered after trying to repair their lives. That made me the last one left.

They'd be after me next. Who they were exactly was hard to say. Just because I operated in the shadows doesn't mean I knew everything that happened. Our unit could have just been one of a dozen or so more covert forces. They were out there and they wanted me dead, like every other person I've ever met.

My brown leather jacket did little to protect me from the occasional bitter gusts of wind that ruffled my grey hair. A pair of sunglasses protected me from the dust. I looked pretty odd with them and my eye patch.

A plane was coming in from the west. I felt my heart skip a little. I hadn't seen her in ten years. It landed about forty meters from me. I adjusted my coat and approached. A dozen soldiers ran out of the plane and aimed assault rifles at me. Shock of all shocks, my call was intercepted.

I raised my hands over my head. At the top of the plane was an African-American woman. She was long past her prime, a once lean figure expanded by years of office work and stress.

The woman walked towards me. "You have some balls, Wilson," she said as we reached each other.

"Would you have it any other way, Amanda?" I greeted.

Amanda Waller was once one of the best field leaders I ever served under. She was the savviest woman to ever work for the United States. I had seen her strong arm bureaucrats all over the world with nothing but natural menace and vigor, reinforced with the very real threat of an unlisted black-ops team.

Those glory days were now behind her and me. She was now some advisor to the Senate Foreigner Relations Committee. All she had accomplished was sealed away in some government vault left to gather dust, leaving only memories she could discus tell anyone.

"You know what they're going to do to you right?" Amanda asked me.

"Put a bag over my head, march me out a few hundred meters, dig a ditch, and blow my brains out," I coldly stated. Amanda remained unmoved by my morbid prediction.

"No matter what you do here Slade, we both know you can't win," she retorted.

"Someone has to tell the world what we've done. Even if I fail, the damage I do will force the government to admit the truth," I retorted.

"Do you think you're being a hero?" she asked.

"I was never a hero, no matter what you or any other spook told me."

Amanda shook her head. She simply stepped aside and I popped out a couple of flashbang grenade, tossing them at the soldiers. They were encased in a white smoke.

I pulled out a pair of pistols from my hidden hip holsters and gunned them down. They fell to the ground. "I'd get out of here soon. Gets pretty cold at night around here," I said as I stepped over the bleeding bodies.

Amanda pulled out a satellite phone. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

"To visit Dorothy," I cryptically retorted. Amanda's eyes widened. I boarded the plane and dispatched the crew. In a lull of the wind I took off for Myanmar, it was the first leg of my journey.

It was up to Amanda whether or not to tell her overseers what I planned on doing. I went to where Amanda had sat on the plain, marked by an old field signal: a left hand glove placed on the seat. Merely follow the index finger and there it was. The file I had asked her for.

She must have called in a lot of favors for this one. It was a list of every assassination carried out unofficially by the United States over the last twenty years, listed as "beneficial accidents."

Several of the names I had taken out myself. But there were dozens more that even I didn't recognize, giving credence to my belief that there were other units like mine out there.

It was time to show the world just how much America values its allies.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Wow four perspectives in six chapters. Pretty cool huh?

Quick lesson on comics for anyone not in the know: Slade Wilson aka Deathstroke the Terminator (What a name, incredibly cheesy yet also freaking terrifying) was originally a Teen Titans villain made in 1980. More recently you've probably seen him in _Young Justice_, the animated _Teen Titans_, the game _Injustice_, and a weird version in _Arrow_ (I haven't watch arrow yet, but he is apparently in there). I will just say this: I like Deathstroke. He knows what he wants and isn't concerned about the means to get it. Chaotic Neutral at its most cynical.

Much like I like I chose _Black Lagoon_ to throw at _The Dark Knight_, bringing Deathstroke as an antagonist is workable in the world of the Nolanverse. He is smart, athletic, and morally ambiguous at best and his power is increased regeneration, which can be ignored or modified.

This was a pretty basic chapter, introducing a new character and his deal. But, at least we're out of the first act! Woot! Wait that means I have to start explaining shit...

No it's good, I planned this out.

Let me know what you think with a review. PM me any theories you'd like to discuss with me and any ideas or places you think I should go.

Until next time, why did she weep at the wall {because she knew that this was her end}


	7. Chapter 7

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter VII: The Dark Masters

I felt every inch of my body pour sweat by the bucket. My heart was about to burst out of my chest. The air seemed to crush me underneath its weight.

I entered the back. There was a man with dark matted hair that reached down to his shoulders. A thick beard covered his face. He was wearing the local attire. His build was far thicker than anyone I had seen in a while.

The man was kneading dough with fingers that looked horribly disfigured like they had not healing properly after a terrible accident. But his eyes seemed sharp. Tired but not unfocused.

"So you're looking for Bruce Wayne?" The man asked in rusty English. I nodded. The man he seemed familiar.

"Why are you looking for Wayne?" the man asked.

"Because he's Batman," I said.

"That's quite the claim," the man commented as he placed the dough into an oven.

"It's true and I need to speak with him."

The man picked up a cane and hobbled over to me. "Well I'm sad to say that Mr. Wayne has been dead for a while now," the man mumbled. For someone who looked so young he was rather old.

He made it back over the oven. His eyes stared into flames. I shook my head. "You're him aren't you?" I asked.

"_Was. _But now I must ask what you are doing interrupting my new life, Mr. Blake," he said. I took a step back. "I never thought you'd actually make it here," he added.

"How...how do you know who I am?" I stammered out. The man shook his head.

"I may be far from the action, but I occasionally get a visitor out here. He keeps me informed. He told me about you, about your search for Batman," he said. "You've come far so I will not rebuff you. Ask your questions and then leave me and my family be."

Family? The woman and the kids? I let out a sigh. "Why didn't you come back? You clearly escaped. Surely you could have gotten a flight out of here," I asked.

Wayne raised his hands. He spread his fingers as best he could. His fingers jutted out at awkward angles. I tried not cringe at the sight.

"The Russians tortured me. For two weeks they beat my body into a mangled wreck. By the time I was busted out, I was of no use to Gotham and I could no longer be Batman."

"But why hide? Why not go back?" I asked. Wayne shook his head.

"After everything was said and done, I had nothing left. Bruce Wayne was alone and Batman was unable to continue. What was the point?"

"So you quit?"

Wayne turned around. There was anger in his eyes. "I gave everything to that city and now I am a man in his thirties reduced to walking with a cane and has to have his meals served as though he were a child!" He shouted. "I would have died for that city, and even that's been taken from me!"

"Now get out," he growled. No, I had come to far too leave empty handed. Something, I need something. I dropped to my knees.

"Train me," I said. Wayne's expression soften.

"Why?" He asked.

Why? Why! Did he really just ask that?

"Because Gotham needs Batman! Now more than ever! Please, I will take your place as Batman. Please train me," I begged. Wayne cocked an eyebrow. He got up and hobbled past me to the front of the shop and out to the front. I followed him. The morning mist had lifted, revealing the true majesty of the scenery. Wayne pointed at a nearby mountain.

"Atop that mountain is a rare purple flower. Bring one back in good shape and I will consider you for training," he declared.

I didn't waste any time. I reached the base of the mountain before noon and started climbing. The mountain started off with steep winding paths.

A simple loss of my footing cost me several dozen yards. The dirt and mud smeared all over my clothing. It was going to take more than that to slow me down!

The trail ended at a beautiful vista overlooking the village. A scene made even more beautiful by the setting sun. Crap!

I looked around for a path up to the top. There was nothing that led up save a few places where the rain water had carved a path as it ran down the mountain. The fading light forced me to pick a path.

The ditch wasn't easy to traverse. Parts of it were made better by exposed tree roots. I used those as ropes to assist me up. Occasionally the root I was using would give and I had to act fast. Usually I jumped to the nearest root or dug into the mud and prayed to get a hold.

The sun had been down an hour by the time I made it up to the very top. There was a serene pond at the center of it with simple stone shrine built on its shore. Around the pond were several purple flowers, illuminated by the moonlight.

A cool breeze meandered through the trees, making the flowers dance to a primal, inaudible beat. The grass swayed to and fro, creating a shifting dance floor for the flowers. The rustling leaves sent a calming chill down my back.

I approached the surreal scene and picked the sturdiest flower I could find. I carefully began my decent back down the mountain. It was a far more treacherous than going up. One slip up and I would have to go back up.

No sooner had those words crossed my mind than I fell down the trench. My flower was ruined. I took the arduous climb again, root by root and step by step.

I again plucked a flower and started down only to suffer a similar fate as my first attempt. But on the third attempt the sun had risen as I reached the bottom of the mountain.

My clothes were covered in muck and grime but I had the damn flower. A feeling of pride and victory flooded my veins. I marched right into town, ignoring everyone on the street. I entered the bakery to find Bruce and the woman from the other day setting up the shop. The children were again playing.

The woman gave me a vicious stare as I entered the establishment. I unceremoniously handed the flower to Wayne. He took it and examined it. I think I honestly surprised him.

Wayne called the little girl over in the local language. The girl happily approached. Wayne carefully placed the flower in her hair. He then kissed the top of her head and sent her off.

Had I just been an errand boy? I shouldn't be rash or impatient. I had sprung this on him. Being petulant wouldn't help.

I waited patiently for Wayne to make his decision. He whispered with the woman for a minute. Wayne then walked over to me, leaning heavily on his cane. "I have one final test for you," he said.

Don't yell, don't be a jerk. Do as he says and I'd show him my mettle. I reminded myself of that over and over and over again.

We walked down far from the village into a valley. The sounds of the jungles returned to my ears. I kept pace with Wayne, keeping at least a step behind him. No words were exchanged between us. The sun was starting to burst over the land.

The path led up to a large cave. Wayne sat down on a nearby rock. "Do you know why I picked the bat as my symbol?" Wayne asked me. I stared into the gaping maw that was the mouth of the cave.

"Um, because bats are scary creatures of the night," I answered. I heard alien chirping in the distance.

"Indeed. When I was a boy, I was terrified of them. My fear…cost me," Wayne choked out. "But when I was older I learned to harness that fear, to share it with those who would do harm to the innocent."

I nodded. "Being Batman isn't just donning a cape and cowl, Mr. Blake. It is about serving the people. You must be willing to lay down your reputation and your life in their name," he continued. "So, do you think you're ready to be Batman?"

"Yes. I will be Batman," I said. A great gust fell upon me. I was swarmed by thousands upon thousands of bats. Their leathery wings and nipping jaws fell upon my body.

I felt my heart beat wildly as the creatures of the night swarmed by me. I wanted to fall to my knees. I wanted curl up into a ball on the ground. I raised my arms out instead. My body felt as though I were flying with them into the cave, into the darkness where I was to dwell. But as I rose I felt trapped, confined with the cave walls.

The last of the bats retreated into the cave after minutes. I turned to Wayne. He just nodded in approval. "Very well, I will train you."

Thus began my training. Wayne, while physically unable to do much, was an able teacher. I had learned quite a bit in just three days. Fighting, stealth, investigation, all his skills laid bare. Slowly I had begun to grasp them.

On my fourth night sleeping in the bakery's attic, another stranger walked in. I lay still and silent and listened. Wayne was talking to the man, whose voice I recognized! It was my contact from Gotham. I tried to get a view of him but again his face was hidden in shadows. So he was responsible for getting Wayne out.

"Wilson's on the move, he stole a government plane in central Asia and is moving southeast," my contact said.

"You haven't figured out his plan?" Wayne concernedly asked.

"Wilson barely exists on the record. Without a more solid profile, I can't predict his moves with a great deal of accuracy. The only tidbit I got was from Ms. Waller's report which simply said he was off to 'visit Dorothy.' It's vague, but I'm pulling some strings to get more information," my contact curtly replied.

"Blake won't be ready in time if Slade moves too early," Wayne said.

"I know, now I must be off. My flight is leaving tomorrow afternoon and it is a long way."

My contact left. My head now swirled with this information. Who was this Slade Wilson? Who was Dorothy? Was I the one to stop him? The questions burned throughout the next day's training.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: This is just a personal preference but I've never liked the idea of a Robin taking over for Batman. None of them have the same drive to match Batman. Think about it.

Dick Grayson got justice for his parents so he's in the fight for the sake of good. Jason Todd is insane (and an antihero for some reason). Tim Drake and Carrie Kelly signed on _specifically to be_ Robin. Stephanie Brown...sucked because the writers didn't respect her. And Damian Wayne thinks he is simply entitled to it. Maybe I'm over simplifying, but I never see the Robins as true successors to Batman. They usually gain something that Bruce Wayne has never gotten.

That's why I like _Batman Beyond_. Terry McGinnis simply takes up the mantel under the guidance of Bruce Wayne not as a sidekick, but as a superhero. And yes I know about that time Dick and Damian teamed up when Bruce was gallivanting through time, didn't care for it.

Back to actual important things like my thoughts about what I wrote. Among the interesting things I've found studying Christianity is the ritual of baptism. Something about the idea of accepting a "higher truth" and being reborn by it appeals to me as a writer. Read into that what you will.

Did anyone else get an _Empire Strikes Back_ vibe? And what's the deal with the Question?

On a side note, because I forgot this last time: Slade chapters will be marked by famous battles that might have thematic ties to the chapter. If you aren't sure about the title, Google it. I'm not here to explain my every stylistic choice out right. Feel free to ask me in a review though, or PM them to me along with any ideas you have or places you think I should go.

Until next time, now I cannot recall her face or what she said {only that now there is a god}


	8. Chapter 8

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter VIII: You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

Useless. Fucking, fucking, _fucking_ useless. By the looks of it, Rock wasn't to be seen in Port Moresby. We were sailing back to Jakarta in the hopes of finding a new trail.

I was storming around the bow. Lee was sitting by the wheel as Benny took his turn at the wheel. The girl was looking at that damn picture she defaulted to stare at whenever I was losing it.

It was an old picture of me and Rock after a job. I don't even remember which one. It was a pretty good picture too. I looked like shit with a black eye and some bandages Rock was covered in a layer of sweat and on the verge passing out.

I wasn't sure what we'd find back in Jakarta. My mind drifted back to the man in the Alley. Lee said it was her father.

There was no way. He moved with a level of confidence that Rock never had. I gave a tug on my now shorter hair.

Where the fuck was he? I had been all over the place looking for him. Maybe he went back back to Japan. That idea fell over pretty quickly. Rock was too far gone to simply go back to civilization.

Jakarta was back in site.

I hadn't been to India yet. That didn't make sense because of all the reports of him over here. Fuck! I see why he did all those freaking wall doodles. He'd have gone insane keeping all that shit in his head.

We made it just in time for lunch. Benny took us to a place he heard about. Lee and I picked through what we liked.

"Where is he Benny?" I asked as I kicked the street. Lee went out in front of us. We were nearing a major intersection.

Not that there was much of an answer the blonde could give. "He's not infallible, Revy. He'll have to make a mistake at some point and we'll be there when he does," he calmly said. Actually, that was a pretty good one.

Lee ran into a man at the stop walk. I grumbled a bit as he turned around. This could get ugly. He was an older white dude with an eyepatch. Probably another 'nam vet that decided to stick around.

The man helped Lee to her feet. "I think your parents are here," he said. His hand pointed at me and Benny. Lee turned around and ran back to Benny.

"You have a very pretty daughter. I'd keep a better eye on her," he said. Damn it, why did he softball it in like that?

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled. Wait! "Have I seen you before?" I asked.

"It's probable. I drift from place to place," the man claimed. No, I saw him in a picture somewhere. Oh hell yes.

I nodded and grabbed Benny and Lee. I dragged them back onto a side street. My grasp left Lee's limb then gripped Benny's collar.

"Do you know who that is," I excitedly hissed.

Benny cocked his head to the side in contemplation. "It looks kind of familiar," he admitted.

"That's _Colonel_ Slade Wilson. He deserted the American Army a couple years ago," I said. Benny was unimpressed with the revelation.

"Do you have a point, Revy? I keep a good eye on the bounty lists and that name has never popped up."

"Use your imagination. If we have him, the Feds will want him and we'll give him to them for a nice finder's fee," I insisted.

"Why would we do that? Financially we're fine. You were surprisingly restrained while you were gone and I supplemented from Lee and myself."

"Yeah but maybe we can get a fix on Rock," I said.

Benny rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You want kidnap a guy off the street, assuming that he is the man you're looking for, and sell him to the American government for information on a man they probably never heard of?" he grumbled. Well when it's put like that. "Ah fuck, go for it. I'll take Lee back to the ship. If you catch him, we'll keep him in the hold."

Hell yeah. I smirked and nodded. Benny walked away with Lee. I checked my pistols under my vest.

Back on the street, Wilson was crossing the street. I rushed to catch up. It was on. I just needed to find the right spot.

Jakarta was busy that afternoon. I pursued the soldier for thirty minutes down the street. He might have caught on to me as he started to subtly weave through the crowd. Our steps fell in line to the rhythm of the hunt.

I forged ahead, zeroing in on him. Slade kept to main straits. He never wavered but took every opportunity to try and lose me. Each time I reestablished the trail. Sooner or later he'd make a mistake.

Come on.

Come on.

_Come on_!

Perfect. He went down an empty side street. Let's do this.

I rushed up to him, placing the barrel of my pistol against the back of his head. He calmly raised his hands into the air.

"Do you really think this is wise girl?" Slade coldly asked.

"I'm an in-the-now kind of gal," I growled in retort. I cocked the pistol.

"No doubt. But I'm curious: what makes you think that you can take me?"

"The fact that you're going to be my one way ticket to finding someone very important."

Slade chuckled. He became a blur of motion. His hand now gripped the cutlass. I didn't feel him rip it out of my hand. My lower jaw tingled then stung. I slammed to the pavement.

What the hell? I went toe to toe with freaking Batman and this old codger set me on my ass! Was I that out of shape? I popped up. Slade was unimpressed to say the least.

"I think you're a little over your head girl," Slade calmly said. I raised my fists. This was going to be fun. I started a quick jab.

Slade caught my fist. I tried not to grimace as he crushed my hand. I resorted to some kicks. The man loosened his grip just enough for me to break free and deliverer a cross arm with my other fist.

I rolled out of the way, picking up my weapon off the ground. It took Slade by surprise. My grip was firm. My sights aimed right at him.

"Listen up old timer; you're going to come quietly," I hissed.

"I'm sorry girl but I have business elsewhere. I don't want to kill you, so please don't make me."

We started circling. Blood was pumping overtime in my heart. I couldn't remember the last decent fight I had. Sure I was fighting an old guy, but he was a skilled army veteran.

Slade moved in a liquid manner and I was once again on the ground. Now Slade, no, no it wasn't Slade at all!

Batman was on top of me, his fist raised up. His demonic mask staring into me. That was impossible! The Russians, Rock, no!

No!

Oh fuck!

"Revy, Revy. Okay Lee, give her a kiss," I heard someone say from beyond the black haze of my mind. I sprang up, breathing heavily.

Lee and Benny were standing over me in my room. "Damn it! The bastard got away didn't he?" I muttered. Benny shook his head with a frown. He sat down at the end of my bed.

"I knew this would happen," Benny commented.

"What?" I growled.

"Let's face it Revy, since your fight with the Batman you haven't been the same."

"Bullshit, I just wiped the floor with some losers the other day in Roanapur," I said.

"Yeah, untrained, probably desperate and starving losers in the middle of a war zone, truly a testament to your prowess."

"Do you have a point?"

"My point is, you've been out of the action for too long and that fight with the Batman might have messed with your head. I mean the way you kept muttering Wayne in your sleep I thought you were actually after him."

"So what? You want me to quit and settle down with the girl and be all happy family time with her?"

"I'm saying pick your battles. You're not as young as you used to be and this lifestyle is starting to catch up, whether you know it or not."

Fuck, he was right. My body was starting to hurt just a little bit more every day. Drinking dulled it a bit, but was also dulling my mind.

"I…I just want to find Rock, alright. After that, I don't know," I started to repeat.

Benny grabbed my shoulder. "I'll probably regret this, but I know where he's going to be," he said. I perked up.

"How, why? Where?" I barked. I grabbed Benny's collar.

"He's going to be in Sydney, Australia in a few days," he quietly said.

"How do _you_ know that?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

Since when did Benny become a secret keeper? "Fine, we'll head out tomorrow. But I swear if he ain't there Benny, you're going end up shark chow. Got it, _mate_?" I said. The man nodded.

I tried to stand up but felt a rush of pain come up my legs. That lead was it. If I didn't find Rock, it might as well be the end of me.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Hi all. We're back. I was off setting up my pet project, _Project: Life Spark, _with the first couple of chapters of _The Serial Experiment._ Go ahead and check that out if you're up to it. I'm trying to make it as friendly as possible to people unfamiliar with the source material so don't be scared. So if you like this, you should go read it.

Not to worry, _Knighthood_ is starting to get interesting and is still a priority. So Revy has a meet up with Slade. That didn't go so well for her. But now the trio is off to the Land Down Under (where women glow and men plunder).

Next time the secret history of The Question or a random cut back to Dutch. Because that makes perfect sense.

Until next time, then what is a god {that which is always present and always knowing}


	9. Chapter 9

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter IX: Modus Operandi

Singapore, a modern day city state built on tradition, trade, and technology. I had been to the place a few times since I saved Batman some four years ago. That's when my story really began. I believed the world didn't need a Batman. Then I saw the problems arising in the new heroes popping up.

The world needed Batman. But Bruce Wayne was a broken man. Spiritually and physically, the Russian gangsters destroyed him. They brought him to Roanapur in the hopes of extorting a ransom out of him. I knew he couldn't be fixed. Even if his soul was healed, there was nothing modern medicine could do to get him in shape to fight.

However I wasn't going to let such a valuable resource waste away. The old Batman was dead, but a new one could be built. The escape I organized to put that plan in motion was topnotch. In fact that is where the persona of The Question first came into being. However I didn't intend for Balalaika's crusade to retrieve him to get so out of hand. The match I lit was still burning. It pained me to think that I did that, but at the same time I was glad.

I hid Wayne deep in the rural countryside of Thailand. As it turned out that a man like Wayne could fall in love. He was a family man now with two children.

Not long after I hid the man, I went down to Singapore to meet Lucius Fox after Wayne arranged it for me. We discussed the future of Wayne Enterprises. He maintained his current role and I was made the custodian of the Wayne fortune, giving me access to plenty of funds to work into my plans. It was also a good way to make Wayne seem alive and thus keep the Russians guessing.

It was on that trip where fortune smiled on me. I met a lovely young reporter named Lois Lane who was on assignment for work. She was ambitious and on the hunt for the best stories. It was through her that I was able to build my network with other heroes and gain access to certain classified files via her past as an army brat.

Our first meeting was rather peculiar. I wisely sat behind her while waiting at an airport gate. She became convinced from some of the stories I had gathered in Roanapur for her to print. Lane also liked my dream of a unified league of heroes. Of course she was suspicious of my anonymity but eventually accepted it.

Lane was the one who brought Slade to my attention with one of her articles. He became the focal point of my activities. He was a threat to global security and a good test for the next Batman. A bit twisted to just let him be perhaps, but worst case scenario I'd thwart him before something major went down.

Singapore had become the preferred meeting spot for me and Lane. The city had lots of travelers passing through from all over the world to hide amongst, enough seclusion to pass certain documents, and a surprisingly bribable police force.

This time we were meeting in a dingy restaurant near the port. It was a place where you were paying for digression than the food. I arrived first, shielding my face as best I could. The fedora helped, casting shadows over my features. I placed my order before Lane arrived. She was dressed in her usual violet skirt and blouse outfit.

Her purse was rather large. That was a good sign. She probably got more than I asked for, though she'd probably use it to get a favor out of me.

Lane took a seat in the booth behind me, sitting so that we faced away from each other. "You know Q; you must be one ugly guy. It's the only reason you still hide your face every time we meet," she greeted in her usual dry, droll manner.

"You enjoy it, Lane. An international man of mystery, the exotic locations, it must beat sitting in Metropolis all the time waiting for something to happen," I retorted. Lane set her purse between us.

I nonchalantly reached down and plucked the files from her bag. "This was a big one Q. I had to call nearly everyone I know on the inside to get them. Turns out Slade was far more than you thought," Lane said.

I began to look through them. First was Project Barca. There was a list of subjects and staff. Chief among those was Slade Wilson as subject thirteen under the command of one Amanda Waller. What followed was a list of procedures, targets, and missions carried out under the project's directives.

The experiments done on the men and women in the Project accomplished very little. But the pictures were gruesome, many displaying the charred remains of failures. They stopped by the mid-eighties. Most of the names on the list of targets I didn't know. I would have to look into them later. The missions they carried out eliminated many of the names on the previous list. As I read the After Action Reports, I began to see the connections.

Project Barca wasn't a super soldier program as I originally thought. It was a political engineering unit staffed by the best of the best the American machine could produce. Their work ultimately destabilized and undermined dozens of legitimately elected governments and several dictators all over the world. Out of the artificially induced chaos rose a few pro-American governments. Slade Wilson came up a lot in those reports. He became more of a hit man than a soldier with each occurrence. But it gave me a firsthand look at his M.O.

He was ruthless and efficient, and he was starting to turn those skills towards the rest of the world. I moved on to the next few files. They were planed operations under Project Barca that were never carried out.

"There was one missing," Lane muttered. That caught my attention. "Some of those files reference an Operation Wizard. But none of my contacts knows what it's about or where it is, let alone who took it."

I ran through the files. All references to Operation Wizard were in files that pertained to the allies of the United States, calling to the similarities of parliamentary democracies and ways of taking them down. Waller must have gotten it for Wilson or Wilson straight up stole it. Either way, that psycho must have it. But what could it be? He was heading southeast, to visit Dorothy, and my god.

"Are there any big events going on Australia soon?" I quietly asked.

"I think Oz-con's next week," Lane mused. "I was thinking of going as Captain Marvel, but I was never a good blonde."

"No, something political!" I hissed.

"Relax Q, I know what you meant. The ruling party is meeting in Sydney to discuss their platform for next year's general election at the start of next month," Lane said.

Fuck!

I stuffed the files into my coat and dropped another file into Lane's bag. "Here's the information on Luthor's activities out here. Not pretty I have to say," I said.

"Come on Q, I want a something a little bigger than Lexi's latest criminal charge for this one," she said. I pulled out yet another file and discreetly placed it inside her bag.

"Very well, here's Dailo Chang's list of new ventures in America. Go crazy," I whispered.

Lane took it out and skimmed over it. She replaced it. "You're good Q. But I want to meet him," she demanded. I sighed.

"You know I can't do that."

"Oh come on; just hide his face in shadow or something. You're good at that."

"It's not just him anymore."

"So you got your long awaited heir has finally shown up, has he…or she?"

"Drop it Lane."

"Fine, where do you get this stuff, anyway?" she asked.

"You're not my only contact Lane," I bluntly reminded her. "One of my best, but still one of many."

"I bet you don't treat them to such nice dates," she replied as the waiter arrived with our meals. "I mean what girl doesn't dream of meeting up with such an eccentric gentleman in a dingy dive in Southeast Asia or chatting with a faceless guy in a train station in Eastern Europe."

"Sarcasm is unbecoming of you, Ms. Lane."

"Speaking of sarcasm, Green Arrow also says to go to hell. He's still not a fan of your global initiative."

I respected Arrow for his dedication to the classic vigilante way. But if the fate of Batman was any sign, it was that we needed to organize in a way to protect ourselves. My league idea was a simple, limited interference measure. In exchange for obeying a few league directives and a unifying creed, a hero would gain access to a pool of resources such as criminal databases and technology as well as back up. There were downsides, but we could do far more good as a group than individuals.

I wasn't asking for secret identities. Not that it took me long to figure most out.

"That's why I want him on board. We need a skeptic to see the flaws," I replied.

"Look Q, I'll help you fight the good fight, but if and when this league of yours comes to fruition: I want nothing to do with it. I'll give you tip or two every now and again for old time's sake. That's all," Lane quietly declared. Well that made two of us. Lane was a much better reporter, and more useful on the outside.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. Tell Arrow that he still has an open invitation," I said.

Lane groaned a bit. "Sometimes I feel more like your mailwoman than your informant. When are you getting those communicators you promised?" she asked.

"Oracle is working as fast as she can," I assured her. We quickly finished our meals in silence after that.

I paid after Lane and left a few minutes. I walked around the pier. My phone rang. One of my first contacts in the area was calling.

"Yeah?"

"I figured."

"He's heading for Sydney. I'm pretty sure he's got something big in store."

"I doubt Blake will be ready in time."

"Well that's why I'm checking before I go."

"Stay clear of there for the next couple of weeks. I don't want you to introduce an unstable element."

"You're right. I'll send someone in beforehand."

"Who's around there?"

"Is he really? Good to know. Thanks, bye."

I closed my phone. So, Slade was in Jakarta. He was getting close. Fortunately code name: Stone was closer. Stone was my first real contact. Without him, I'd never have bothered attempting a rescue of Batman.

He was in New Zealand now of all places. He was usually scurrying around the South China see. I dialed his phone number.

"Hey, I need a favor."

"No, nothing dangerous. Promise."

"I need you to scout out a few places in Sydney for me."

"I'll comp you, don't worry."

"Alright, I send you the info when you get there. See you in Sydney."

Why was Slade targeting Australia? Was he going to send a message? Was he fulfilling some sick preprogrammed instruction? The question was known and the answer eluded me.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Okay, good news/bad news time people. The bad news is, this might be the last _Knighthood_ chapter of the year. _Might_ being the operating term, seeing as I'm shifting focus to _Project: Life Spark_ for December. The good news is, if someone gives a solid review of _The Serial Experiment_ and they politely ask for chapter ten as a Christmas present at the end of it, I'll happily oblige and try to have it done for the twenty-fifth. This rule doesn't apply to demonicDRAMAqueen (but you can still leave a review because I'd be sad otherwise). I appreciate your patronage and your friendship girl, but let's have some of my other fans participate okay. Besides, you'll probably badger me into doing it anyway.

Today we meet Lois Lane. I feel like Lois gets a bad wrap nowadays as a damsel in distress. Which is fair I suppose. However I loved the Lois Lane on the nineties _Superman _animated series and _Justice League_. Her predicaments were mostly self-inflicted due to her ambitious, almost workaholic nature, but she never came off as some feminist straw (wo?)man trying to out do all the boys.

Back on topic, more of The Question and his intrigue. The pieces are starting to come together for a show down in the Land Down Under (where beer does flow and men chunder). Sorry, sorry. It's just such a catchy song damn it! It's interesting to see his influence in action. It raises a question about what his real motivations are for creating a league of heroes, if you were to ask me that is.

Also I've never been a fan of a truly organized team of superheroes. Don't get me wrong, it can work really well. But I like the idea of a confederation (not _that_ one) of heroes more and you just don't see that. I also think that in a world without superpowers, it is a better structure.

Until next time, can man make such a being {we did at the foot of the ruined wall}


	10. Chapter 10

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter X: Into the Void

Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus. The darkness isn't a handicap.

Sweat dripped down my face. I felt it coldly crawl along my skin. A gentle breeze kissed the top of my freshly trimmed hair, sending a relaxing chill down my spine. The air rapidly shifted.

Sweep from my right. Dodge into it.

High strike. Avoid left.

Low strike. Avoid ri—pain! So much pain!

A rush of agony fell over my abdomen. I dropped to my knees. A groan wanted come out. But I wasn't about to give into it. I had to keep going.

I reaffirmed my stance, digging my feet into the loamy dirt. Come on!

"Stop," Wayne said from somewhere beyond the void. I ripped off my blindfold. Cassandra was standing in front of me with a stick of bamboo almost as long as she was tall. She quickly retracted the faux-blade, bringing it to her hip.

Cassandra was Wayne's daughter and oldest child. Her cold black eyes and tight hair bun clashed with her still very childish features. She had spoken very little to me, even after volunteering to assist. It was like I couldn't escape Mai, his wife. Wayne himself was standing behind her.

The man had come alive in the weeks I had been here. He started walking around Cassandra to me. His feet shuffled a bit having little need for the aid of a cane anymore. Still he was hunched over, hands clasped behind his back.

Never once did I comment on his condition. If things went according to plan, I doubt I'd be in that good of shape. Each step he took shifted the dirt around the inside of cave. It was cooler than practicing directly outside.

We had to practice in the afternoon because our mornings were spent working the shop. I quickly learned to help. Wayne wasn't charging rent or even told me help.

"You were unfocused," Wayne continued.

"I was totally in the zone; I just misjudged which way she was…"

Wayne cut me off with a quick wave of his hand and a flurry of Thai directed at Cassandra. I had picked up a bit of the language in my time here. Not enough for solid conversation, but enough to brace self for another low strike.

Cassandra preformed another low strike. I quickly jumped out of the way. Her strike missed me by a hair.

"What's the point of all this anyway? I haven't fought stick wielding crooks before, and I doubt I ever will," I grumbled. Complaining wasn't going to get me far but I had to say something before I went insane.

"_That_ is not your problem, Mr. Blake. You understand the objective better than I did in my training. No there is something deeper," Wayne retorted with a wave of his hand.

He was right. I had been able to think of lately was Slade Wilson. The way my contact spoke with Wayne bothered me. I sighed. "What are you hiding from me?" I asked. I looked down at the man.

Wayne cocked an eyebrow. He barked something in Thai. Cassandra bowed and walked out of the cave. She glared at me for a moment as she passed me. It was a carbon copy of her mother's.

"And what am I hiding from you, Mr. Blake?" Wayne asked.

"Who is Slade Wilson and what is his deal exactly?" I requested.

"You heard the conversation Q and I had?"

"Q?" I asked.

"That's short for his name, the Question," Wayne sarcastically spat. "So, you want to know about Slade Wilson?"

I nodded. "Yeah, what's his deal?" I asked. Wayne opened his mouth.

"Slade Wilson, former U.S. Army officer and Special Forces operative. Defected in Afghanistan two years ago and has recently been making his way across Southeast Asia," a cold, calculated voice echoed around the cave. A man in a trench coat and a fedora was standing at the mouth of the cave. I couldn't make out any major details of his face in the distance and shadows.

"Speak of the devil," Wayne mumbled. "What are you doing back so soon?" he called back to the Question.

The fedora wearing man looked up at the ceiling then took a few steps forward. I noticed he had a flesh colored mask on that covered his features along with dark sunglasses to shield his eyes. "Well I know how much you love having me around so much," he commented.

"I don't know more than two visits in a year? I think you are starting to get attached," Wayne countered.

"Don't flatter yourself Wayne. My visit is actually about our mutual foe," he dryly added.

"You know what he's up to?" I asked. The Question gave a tip of his hat.

"A theory mostly," he corrected. "I came here to see if you're up to the challenge of taking him on, saving the world from chaos. General 'hero' type stuff," he dryly said.

Wayne started walking towards the man. "Well he's not Q," he barked.

The Question lazily scratched is nose. "And what do you think, Mr. Blake?" he asked.

There was no way Wayne was going to let me go. But I wanted more than anything to prove myself as Batman. I had learned more in two weeks than I had in months at the academy. I could move through the trees without being spotted, throw a batarang within centimeters of a bull's-eye, and track a snake through the underbrush. They weren't perfect and I made my share of mistakes but I could still do them. "I'm not sure," I finally said using the most neutral tone I had. The Question nodded. He disinterestedly straightened his tie.

"Well then I won't waste anymore of your time. I have to get going and see if I can mitigate the damage," he sighed. He tipped his hat, turned around, and strode away. Wayne mumbled something under his breath. I noticed the Question slightly brush his hand against a tree, lazily fall to his side, brush over a fern, then slip into his coat pocket. It was all done in just a split second as he entered the path back to town. The subtle gesture was easily missed by an untrained eye, but was entirely deliberate. Everything about it was too mechanical, too methodical.

Wayne turned back around. A sigh escaped his lips. "I take it you don't care for him," I quipped. My master shook his head.

"He has his uses, Mr. Blake. But you shouldn't trust him," Wayne said. I raised an eyebrow.

"And why not?" I countered. Yeah he was a bit odd, but he had only helped me thus far.

"Because men like him are the reason I live here now," he quietly answered.

"What, he's like that Rock guy from Roanapur?" I kind of blurted out.

The older man lightly chuckled with a shake of his head. "Oh, the Question has become far more dangerous than Rock ever was."

"What do you mean?"

A contemplative sigh escaped Wayne's lips. "Rock was…brilliant," he bitterly conceded. "_But_ he was mired by the confusing nature of living in the twilight, only to find himself sunk into the darkness without ever realizing it. The Question is equally sharp and well aware of the nature of twilight; often using the end justifies the means argument to defend his actions."

"You make it sound like that's a bad thing," I commented. I had been told of the actions he took during the Joker attacks: ignoble perhaps, but necessary. Wayne's hands curled a bit.

"Batman is _not_ a hero, but one who bears the title should never do the wrong thing if there is a better option still available. This means that our struggle is eternal," Wayne philosophized. "Back when I was Batman, I think I knew that fact even though I…"

Wayne paused. I saw his lower lip almost torn off by his teeth. I reached out to grasp his shoulder. He brushed my hand away. "Ultimately as Batman you too must understand these facts. But the Question thinks there is some endgame to be found in the vigilantes of the world teaming up in some super-organization," he bitterly growled.

"Is that so bad?" I asked.

"It is if you are not careful, Blake. He knows that Batman is a powerful symbol that would give credibility and legitimacy to his 'Justice League,'" Wayne said.

"So you think he's using me?"

"Of course he is; it's his M.O. But people like you and Green Arrow have to fight him every step of the way."

I rolled my eyes. "Then why join his little club at all?"

Wayne grabbed my shoulder. He looked into my eye. "Because the world doesn't work like that anymore, I worked alone because I _was_ alone. Not joining his league would be the height of folly on your part. The benefits inevitably out way the drawbacks, however you cannot lose sight of why Batman exists," he said. He poked a scared finger into my chest with every closing syllable.

"To serve Gotham and her people," I finished. Wayne nodded in approval. He released me from his grip.

"I'm heading back for dinner," he said. The older man started shuffling out of the cave.

"I think I'll stick around a bit longer, clear my mind," I said. I gave Wayne a nod and he continued.

Once he was down the path, I walked out to where the Question had performed the strange gesture. Doubt crept in the closer I got. Maybe I had over thought the situation. Maybe I was seeing things.

I started investigating. Hidden in the bush was a note that must have been printed off a computer. It told me that if I wanted to help stop Wilson, to meet a couple miles outside of town on the west road at midnight. I stuffed it in my pocket and started back.

Back in the village, the late afternoon was starting to slink away. Cassandra was playing with Damian, Wayne's young son, outside the bakery. Mai was starting to close up shop. She was complaining to Wayne about something or other. It seemed to be nothing but bitching about the Question.

Her husband assured her that he…wasn't going anywhere. Also that the Question wasn't going to be back for a while. Mai wasn't entirely convinced.

After a frigidly quiet dinner I retreated to my bunk, gathered what I needed, and waited until it was time to leave. I slunk my way down the stairs to the front door at about eleven.

"Is this what you want?" I heard Wayne grumble. I turned around. Wayne was sitting on a chair in the corner. He was staring up at the waxing moon.

"The world needs to know that there is a new Batman, that Gotham once again has a beacon of hope," I stated.

Wayne stood up. "And you think getting killed by Wilson is the best way to do this?" he asked as un-sarcastically.

"I'm not going to die. I'm going to stop Wilson."

"Do you even know what he's planning? His motivation or ideology?" Wayne pushed. He was right.

"No, but if the Question needs help then it is my duty to help him," I answered.

"When you are fully trained, yes; look at yourself now though: you're sloppy and not entirely disciplined. Slade is a trained and experienced killer. He'll wipe the floor with you," Wayne prophesized.

It was a possibility. "I'm not going to sit around and let innocents be hurt if there is something I can do. You said it yourself: one who bears the title should never do the wrong thing if there is a better option still available," I countered.

"But you aren't Batman _yet_," Wayne growled. While some might have seen this as debatable, I agreed with Wayne. But if I didn't follow the principles of Batman now, how could I be expected to follow them when I was dressed in the cape and cowl?

"Then let me show you that I am ready. Let me deal with Slade," I insisted.

Wayne disappointingly shook his head. "Like I could stop you. Go then if you must, but don't expect a hero's welcome when you come back. If you come back at all," he bitterly said.

I left the bakery in a huff. The Question was waiting for me by a jeep parked on the side of the road right where he said he'd be.

He was still in his suit and coat, fedora cocked down. His face was still covered by the flesh-like mask, eyes still hidden by sunglasses.

"I see you got my note," the Question commented. He rubbed his thumb over his fingers a moment before getting into the jeep. I set my things in the back of the vehicle and got it too. The Question sped off into the night.

"What do you know about a man named Rock? He's from Roanapur, knows Wayne," I asked. The Question remained silent. I was about to object to his silence.

"Real name Rokuro Okajima, nickname Rock. Age twenty-seven. From Tokyo, Japan. Former employee of Asahi Industries and the Lagoon Company. Skills: asset acquisition and familiar with several languages. Assisted in my plan to free Wayne form the Russians. Current status: missing, possibly and most likely dead," he rattled off.

"What? Something you don't know," I sarcastically commented.

"I never claimed to know everything and as far as Mr. Okajima is concerned I don't care. I have no more use for him," he said.

"Sounds like you are throwing away a good asset. Doesn't seem like you," I noted.

"After he assisted in Wayne's escape, he disappeared. If I need him again, I'll find him," the Question coldly stated.

We fell silent until we arrived at a small airport. I was instructed to fly to Singapore using a fake passport and identity the Question made for me: Richard Grayson from Gotham City. I then took a flight to Sydney, Australia. From the airport there I instructed to go to an apartment in the city.

I knocked on the door. The Question answered still dressed in his usual manner. Dear god did he own anything else? Wait! How did he get here before me? We split up in Thailand!

"Come on, I've got something to show you," he said. I walked in to find a room with walls covered in maps and whiteboards and things written on the wall. Paper was strewn every which way. It looked rather frantically set up. "I apologize about the mess. Stone took the liberty of setting this up for me before he left and I've been nesting the last couple of hours."

Personally, I thought the Question was always a little crazy. But it was at that moment I realized he might actually be insane. I read what was on the walls. Outcomes, statistics, and doomsday declarations marred them.

The Question lifted up a case and placed it in the only empty space left on the dining table. It was a large case with the Wayne Enterprises' logo on it. The masked man popped it open. Inside was a set of black armor with a blue, bird-like logo on the chest. It was a design very similar to the one on my old jacket.

"I had this cooked up just in case the whole Batman thing didn't work out. I suppose I'm too fond of you to send you back out onto the streets unprotected," he admitted. In a way I was relieved. Wayne was right: I wasn't Batman yet. Going out as Batman would have been a lie, so going out as my old persona was the right thing to do.

Come to think of it, I never gave myself a name. I was too involved in helping people to give it any real thought. I thought that such monikers were frivolous and distracting. Also my complete lack of artistic creativity didn't help.

I started taking the armor out. "It's a special combination of carbon fiber and Kevlar. Be careful though, it is designed for mobility and agility over absorbing a tremendous amount of punishment," the Question stated. I could tell. The pieces barely weighed anything and there was only the torso piece, boots, and bracers all meant to be put on top of a black catsuit.

"Thanks," I said.

The Question nodded. "You're welcome," he said. He walked over to a map of what appeared to be a city square or plaza. "Now, let's get down to business. We don't have a lot of time before the conference starts. I've put together Slade's most probable moves and a designed a few counters for each."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: With this chapter, _Knighthood_ is now my longest story so far, and just one chapter short of the halfway point to boot. Also, _Nightfall_ is almost my most viewed story as well. I know none of you really care that much, but I think it's pretty awesome.

This chapter turned out a little better than I hoped. After all we are just moving pieces to there places. I think I squeezed out a bit more than that from this one. The main problem was finding a way to get Blake and Wayne to part. That ended up working pretty well.

I'm setting up a sort of announcement section on my profile page, there you can see what I'm currently working on, estimated competition time, target publication dates, project reveals, and other tidbits I have for you. Also, I have a poll up on my profile that may be relevant to your interests, so check it out.

I hope that all of you have a safe and happy holiday season, and to those in my audience using the Gregorian Calender: let's kick some ass next year!

Until next time, can it really be a god if we made it {is there a difference between god-like and god at this point}


	11. Chapter 11

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter XI: Outlaw Torn

I swear to god if Benny told me to be patient one more time, I'd fucking kill him! We'd been in Sydney for two weeks and I hadn't seen him. Oh but Benny kept swearing that he'd show up.

After that I'd storm out of the cabin and onto the streets of the city. The first couple of times I forgot where I was. I hadn't been around a large group of native English speakers, let alone quote-unquote civilized people in years.

They just don't appreciate a good string of expletives in public. Hell they don't even appreciate guns the way I do. In Australia anyway. Say what you will about us Americans, we _love_ our guns.

Benny would have a fit if he knew I had smuggled my Cutlasses under my light jacket. I didn't care. I'd rather have Dutch yank off my fingernails with a pair of old pliers than go out unarmed. Safety statistics be damned.

Tokyo reminded me that so called civilization wasn't free of the dangers of my world. And I wasn't going to make that mistake again.

So I aimlessly wandered the streets with my guns stowed away. Every time I saw a man with a tie on yanked my attention. My hope flowered for a moment then died when I determined it didn't belong to Rock.

I wasn't so lovelorn bitch sniffing out the man of my dreams. Actually as a lover, Rock wasn't great. Or even that good. No…he was pretty bad.

There was something about that night though. Something deeper. In the time leading up to that Rock had grown distant. He spent his time split between his room and the offices of Hotel Moscow. What he was doing there was anyone's guess.

Then one day he came home while I was having a smoke and a drink by the docks, watching the way the light of setting sun danced on the water. He joined me. We sat there well past dusk.

Nothing particularly interesting was shared or revealed. Words were exchanged but nothing gained. It was…pleasant to just talk. I had never had such an alleviating conversation, with its aimless nature.

I don't know what happened next. One of us made a move. Like I said, it wasn't good at all. But there was a…passion behind it. But as we mingled amongst my bed sheets I realized I wasn't sure what was driving that passion. It certainly wasn't romance.

The next morning he was gone. That night he failed to return and the city went even further into hell.

Not long after I was puking all the time. That's when I learned the bastard knocked me up. Benny and Dutch basically chained me to the wall while the brat grew inside of me. Nine months without a smoke or a drink. If that wasn't a human rights violation, I didn't know what was. Pretty soon Dutch brought in a doctor; I got rid of the kid, and stole a boat from the docks.

I spent every moment since then hunting for Rock, trying to figure out what happened, what it all meant. But I never wanted to see Lee. Honestly I never thought about her, my mind focused on Rock. I didn't even know her name for fuck's sake until I came back.

Did I hate her? No, she didn't ask to be born. My only thought now was why did I let her come in to my fucked up world?

I turned to look into a shop window. My reflection stared back at me. Heavy bags under my eyes, hair starting to grow back; I barely recognized myself anymore.

But behind the stress and the hair, I saw Lee. The girl was a suborn brat, I'd give her that. I barely acknowledged her presences and yet she followed me around like I was a god walking the planet, her very existence hanging on my every word.

She had never asked about Rock despite spending all the time she wasn't staring at me on staring at that picture of the two of us. What would I say about him anyway? I couldn't call him an asshole for leaving her at literally the earliest second. Pot meet kettle.

Besides he didn't even know she existed.

Would I tell her that he was a good person or a ruthless mastermind?

That I nearly killed him multiple times when we first met?

What about our relationship? How would I describe it?

I kicked a discarded can as hard as I could. It clattered down the sidewalk a bit. Every time I went there, every time I tried to figure it out, I…I just got angry. I wasn't sure if I that rage was for me, or him, or something else.

Even though I saw a lot of myself in the kid, I saw way more of Rock. Not just in the hair which refused to cooperate on the right side even after I cut it.

Her manner was mild. At dinner she was always polite. She dressed her best even when it seemed impractical. Hell she wore that yellow dress every chance she got. I was convinced that it was made of that shirt I bought Rock when I first met him. At least someone got some use out of the damn thing.

A large crowd had started to grow around me. A nearby clock said it was just after lunch time. I noticed there were quite a lot of cops prowling around.

These weren't the easy pushovers from Roanapur. No these were professionals with an actual budget and proper training. Not the kind of fuckers I would cross alone.

Their presence sent a wave of caution over my body. I wasn't sure why so many were around.

The crowd seemed to grow bigger and bigger. I realized I had entered a large plaza. At the far end was a large stage filled with a bunch of greying old men mixed with a variety of young bloods. Many of the people in the crowd were holding up signs with political leanings.

I had stumbled into some sort of rally. Fuck me. The three things I actively tried to avoid: motivated assholes, police officers, and politicians; all conveniently gathered in one location to screw me over.

Officers were now everywhere, patrolling the perimeter with armed soldiers accompanying them. I never thought the words would cross my mind but I regretted bringing my guns. If shit went down and I got caught, I'd more than likely be off to prison.

I wasn't going to let that happen. I wasn't going to put L...I wasn't going to wait that long to find Rock.

Instinct kicked in and my eyes went up to the nearby buildings. Blended into the windows were sniper perches. It took a while but I counted them out. There were four of them set up but there was a pretty decent blind spot right in the middle.

A wave of static hit me. It was like the calm before the storm. Nobody was that incompetent. Nobody. I turned around and tried to get out of the plaza. I might as well have been stuck in a glacier.

My ears started to ring.

Smoke started to fill the air.

Panicked screams mixed with haze.

Just another fucking day in the office. A stampede erupted. I moved to the side near the edge. The police and soldiers had dispersed into the crowd.

The men and women on the stage were being escorted off to the side. I didn't hear any shots fired or see any of the VIPs drop.

I looked up to where the blind spot started. A man dressed in black combat armor with a dark orange trim was climbing down. He was using the chaos below to hide is escape, I assumed. Well hopefully he was interested in becoming my ticket to a quick buck.

We met up near the center of the plaza. My heart stopped. It was _him_! _Wilson_. His aged face was that of an old soldier, cold and stoic. He paid me no mind, briskly crossing the plaza.

My vision started to blur. Spots of pain erupted in familiar places all over again. Where was I? Gotham? The dock?

No, no, no. I wasn't going to let the past interfere this time! I reached into my jacket just as the old man past. My knees gave out. It took all my energy to keep from collapsing.

The world came back into focus. I looked up to see the man from Jakarta. The man in the coat! He was standing not ten feet away from me! His figure was cloaked in haze but his gaze was aimed directly at me. Though, his eyes were hidden behind an impenetrable pair of sunglasses and a fleshy mask to hide his facial features. He appeared to be talking on an ear piece.

I jumped up to my feet. What the fuck was he doing here? And why was he looking at me so specifically?

The man slowly turned around and started walking away. I followed him down an alley. He wasn't getting away this time. The chase led me into a construction site further downtown. He stopped in the middle of the skeletal framework of a building. He was trapped by the equipment and supplies scattered about.

I pulled my pistols out and joined him, aiming right at the back of his head. "Alright you fucking weirdo, who are you and what the hell are you doing here?" I growled. My thumbs cocked my weapons. The man just started to laugh.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Hey, I'm back. Again. I know this one is short, but I'm a little busy at the moment. Believe it or not I have a life outside of this. Getting back to school, starting my own original project, charting out other projects for this site, and general new year disorder. I should be back to cranking out chapters pretty soon.

So it is finally coming down, here at the official halfway point. Plans in motion. Chaos in the streets. Good times.

Until next time, it is a thin line {so when does one become the other}


	12. Chapter 12

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter XII: The Trebia

Safety and security made up the illusion that most civilians in the so called first world lived in, reinforced by a slow drip of rhetoric about freedom. Yet they always acted shocked when tragedy occurred. Freedom's a weak shield against a determined psycho with an assault rifle or an insane zealot with an explosive vest.

Even when such an act was perpetrated in the name of some medieval cause, it was usually just a quick "fuck you" to scare the masses. Statistically futile really. However the appearance of such a display provided good cover to obscure a much more nuanced message for those with the skills to decipher it.

Such was the use of the rising smoke in the square. The predicable panic intermixed with the haze. It was a familiar brew found all over the world. No matter the land, no matter the people; panic always spread the same.

My prey fell into line through my scope. All that was left was a simple…

Squeeze.

One.

Squeeze.

Two.

Squeeze.

Three.

Squeeze.

Four.

Squeeze.

Five.

With the emptying of a clip, government of Australia would collapse in a matter of weeks. The fallen were unwilling and unknowing martyrs for the downfall of a monster far more corrupt than even they could comprehend.

Precision demolition as we called it was among the first things I learned under Amanda Waller and my other handlers. How to dissect a government turned from a textbook study into a day job. The first thing was to understand that prime ministers, presidents, dictators; they were but the power source that fed a much larger machine. Sure there was symbolic power in assassinating a leader like that. But the political machine was still capable of repair. In any machine, it was the gears that did the brunt of the work.

The gears of a government were the career politicians and the entrenched bureaucrats that brokered the real power. Take out the right gears at the right time and the system falls apart. A government that didn't work generated unrest. And unrest got attention.

The world would see terrorism at its finest. But for those with real power it was a warning shot.

I climbed down out of my perch to the plaza below. The chaos of the moment flowed over my body. Police and soldiers tried to maintain order.

They didn't worry me. This was but the signature of my final warning.

Most people scrambled out of my way. They had nothing to fear from me. The damage had been done. All that was left was for the security footage to be seen by the right people.

Something was wrong. There was a pair of watching eyes out in the haze. Someone was on to me.

My body tensed. This wasn't supposed to happen. My hand quickly drifted down to my belt. I grabbed a compressed quarterstaff. My thumb slid over the extension button.

I flipped around, weapon at the ready. The only thing that stood out was a girl that looked like the one that tried to stop me in Jakarta. She was running out of the square. I relaxed and continued on.

A figure coming off of a rooftop caught my attention. He skillfully dropped down to the ground. The man was dressed in black armor. I noticed he had a blue avian icon painted on his chest piece. A thick black domino mask obscured his identity. His dark hair was cut short.

One of those hero types that had started to pop up in recent years. They were damn fools. Nothing but idealism wrapped up in tacky costumes. I wasn't going to suffer such a man.

The hero approach. I gripped my staff.

"Sorry but I'm putting an end to your terror spree, Wilson," he declared. He was a bit late. I didn't bother with a verbal comeback. My response was only a quick jab to the man's abdomen near a break in the plates of his armor.

He dodged the blow by a razor thin margin. He grabbed the end of my staff and was able to rip it out of my hands with a single twist of his shoulders. The boy quickly brought the weapon to bear, taking a low stance. I wasn't sure if I was impressed or angry at the kid's action. On the one hand he seemed to have been trained, that was more than I could say about his peers. Then again I could've just been getting sloppy in my old age.

I dropped into my own fighting stance. "Walk away now kid, because I promise: you are not going to walk away at all if you keep this up," I calmly stated. I hated using such a threat. They never worked but I wasn't in the mood to come up with something better. I also didn't want to add another body to the pile. Especially one whose death served no purpose.

The boy shook his head. He charged me. I was able to dodge and deliver a good hook across his face. The hero stumbled back. A bit of blood dripped down out of his mouth. I saw those bloodied lips curl into a smirk. It was a smirk I had seen dozens of times.

It was the look that every wannabe badass I had ever run into bore before their inglorious death. Skill rarely mixed well with bravado on the battlefield. I imagined that my opponent's hero complex probably made this toxic solution even more deadly.

Unfortunate, he might have made nice life for himself. I understood his motivation though. I was already a wanted man before I finally started my quest, and the hero thought he was doing the right thing for bringing me in. To be fair I agreed. I had many crimes to pay for, but I had to make sure that all of us were indicted.

My newest foe cocked back for an attack. I moved fast, dodging into his high strike. My fist delivered a nice uppercut to his jaw. The kid recovered faster than I anticipated and went for a leg lock.

I was able to slide out of his attempted lock, smacking him in the ear. The boy twirled around. He came around with a low sweep with his staff.

I rolled out of the way. I was able to get to his opposite flank. The hero closed up his defenses, using my staff to swat away any of my strikes. We began to circle each other. Sweat began to roll down my brow.

A quick lunge was enough to force us into a grapple for the staff. The kid was providing the first real challenge I had run into in years. It was exhilarating.

Unfortunately such a challenge was not what I needed at the moment. I got leverage and yanked the staff away from him.

Escape was the priority and my ride out of town was leaving in less than an hour. This nutcase was too unimportant. I broke off after collapsing my staff, and started running through the smoke and people. The hero continued to pursue. I could feel him trying to figure out a way to catch me.

The panicked crowd that remained in the square provided a good obstacle for me to slide through. I made it to the edge of the square and darted out into downtown.

I had to find some favorable terrain and fast. The shorter the fight the quicker I got out of the city. My eyes darted all about in search for a good area to finish the fight. A water treatment center came into view. Perfect.

I ran to the center, readying my knife for battle. I kicked in the door to the administration office. The small office was littered with papers and still steaming cups of coffee.

I used the door that led into the plant itself, sheathing my blade. There were pipes and vats along with the runoff. I climbed up the pipes, hiding in the shadows above.

The hero burst in after me. He looked around. Probably confused. He began to slowly move through the plant, circling about. His movements were as smooth as the water running in the runoff below.

I quietly moved through the piping. My heart pounded in my chest. It had been years since I had hunted such high quality prey.

It took another minute to position myself above him. Static crawled over my skin. I took a deep breath through my nose.

The world went cold as I fell to the catwalk bellow. I landed behind the hero, delivering a blow across his face as he turned to engage. He stumbled forward. The opening allowed me to deliver a good roundhouse kick.

My leg buffeted against his hand! The hero had grabbed it in the air and attempted to flip me over. I followed the motion of his throw, hoping to roll away from him just after I hit the ground. He noticed my maneuver and kneed me in the face.

It was a good move. For him. It was excessively painful for me. I groaned as I barrel rolled away from him.

We paused to catch our breath. "You're pretty good kid, pretty good," I said as I got up. The hero nodded in agreement, his chest heaved for air. I wasn't one to give praise like that. Especially in the middle of a fight.

I had to end said fight soon. I produced a bottle of mace and charged forward. He tried to rebuff me but I was able to sneak under the block and deliver the mace right to his eyes. The kid fell back into a defensive posture. I pulled out my knife. His armor was made of plates. If I could find a gap then he was doomed.

My opponent noticeably changed his tactics. I began a series of thrusts near his chest. The hero was able deflect my blows, but he was always a few seconds slower than his usual blocks. It was a rather impressive display. His defenses quickly tightened up enough to match me blow for blow.

Even so his defense wasn't perfect. Normally a person in armor built a defense around the weaknesses of said armor. Not a difficult task even if he was blind. No, my foe was just trying to keep me scoring a hit in general.

So he was probably new to the armor. Interesting.

I pressed the attack. A lightning strike embedded my blade right in between a couple plates on his abdomen. He hissed in pain. I jabbed it in a little further. Blood started flowing out of the wound. I delivered a couple hits to his face.

The hero slumped over a little. His legs gave out a little. I stomped on the exposed back of his knee. He howled in pain.

A swift yank on the grip retracted my blade. The hero raised up his arms. He tried to punch me. I easily deflected the blow and reciprocated with a strike of my own.

He was now totally stunned. I pushed the hero over the ledge. I saw the brief horror and realization in his eyes even through the pain of the mace. I shook my head. He fell down into the fast flowing stream below with. His body floated away.

A sigh passed through my lips. I wished he hadn't chosen the path that led to me. But I had my priorities after his untimely demise.

I slipped out of the plant. The city was unsurprisingly still in a panic. I used the panic to sneak through the city back to the docks. My ride out of town was waiting for me. It was a small tanker. Her captain was waiting at the bottom of the gangplank. He was a tall, heavy set Russian with a nasty scar across his dour face. His name was Boris and he had built a reputation over the last couple of years as an A-list arms dealer.

Normally I wouldn't dare associate with such a low life. Nothing like desperate times to break one's code. I carefully approached him.

The Russian was dressed in a wrinkled suit. He was lazily curling his fingers around a watch. "Ah Mr. Wilson, glad you made it," he greeted in a gravelly voice.

"Hate for you to not get paid, Boris," I said. The man started up the gangplank without a second glance. I liked a man who didn't care much about formalities. They made the world far more tolerable.

The ship set sail a few minutes later. Next stop, answers and home.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: I must admit, one of my favorite tropes in fiction and reality is the question of the few versus the many. Who do you save? How do you judge the value of another human being in a dire situation?

Shows like _Fate/Zero_ and even the _Dark Knight_ itself really dig into this question. And I find it endlessly fascinating. For some reason.

Anyway, Deathstroke wins! Deathstoke wins! No shit. What did you think was going to happen?

I found this chapter slow to write. I knew what was going to happen and where it was going to end up. It just took a kick in the ass for this to get this done.

Leave a review and tell me what's up.

Until next time, I don't know {Should we know where the line is}


	13. Chapter 13

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter XIII: Not Dead Yet

Home...

I never wanted to go home more than the moment Wilson kicked me over the ledge. He got the drop on me. How was I supposed to be the next Batman when the bad guys were sneaking up on me?

It was bad enough that the mission went to shit not long after we arrived on the scene. We watched the Prime Minister and the cabinet like freaking hawks. Everything seemed sound for a while then boom. Explosions everywhere. Gun shots fired. And Slade Wilson walked across the plaza like he was some conquering hero.

The Question was on the scene first. I guess he was going to talk him down or something. He was right there on the scene when he just stopped. Then he said to take care of Wilson myself. No rhyme or reason for it. Kind of an asshole move seeing as I was going to drown.

Death was something I thought I dealt with early on. How many times did the streets almost take my life back in Gotham? How many more times after I became a hero? Honestly I lost count.

Over time I accepted my fate. I didn't have anyone to leave behind. No friends or family to mourn. A martyr for a cause no one else believed in. I was probably insane to anyone on the outside.

That thought was enough to bring a smile to a dying man's face. Maybe that's why The Question picked me. I was the only dumb ass crazy enough to make an attempt at being Batman.

Speaking of, Wayne was going to be pissed. More pissed than usual I should say. But I was going to miss him and the kids a lot. I'd miss Mia's evil glares too.

Rushing water finally engulfed me completely. The inky blackness of death crept in. I fought to the end against the crushing liquid. The last bubble of air exited my lips in a string of small bubbles. I entered the nothing.

My eyes fluttered open, irritated by a ray of light. My heart skipped a few beats. I immediately regretted missing Mass all those times as a kid. A tingly feeling crawled over what I thought were supposed to be my feet.

I began twitching my fingers. Blood started flowing once more. I forced myself up, opening my eyes wide.

No pearly gates, just the apartment that served as our base. I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or not.

My chest burned as I forced my legs over the side of my bed. I was able to get up. Pain shot through my legs with each step. A grimace curled onto my face in order to hold back expressing that pain.

I was able to make it to the bathroom without to incident. The mirror looked like someone mistook it for a freaking punching bag. I counted nearly a dozen impact sites. The smell of chemicals bothered my nose.

I turned on the water and rubbed in some on my face. A refreshing chill tickled down my face. I rubbed my eyes and stepped out into living room.

It was a mess. I mean messier than when I left. The many intricate maps, pictures, and charts had been ripped off the wall. Their shredded remains were scattered over the floor. Instead there were five pictures along with a collection of newspapers and documents connected into a wild, wild web of connections.

"I apologize for the mess," a voice croaked out. The Question was hidden in a corner. He was using his trench coat as a blanket, his face still masked in his usual manner. The man threw it off and stood up, straightening out his suit a bit. He kept his right hand tucked in his pocket. "I take it our Mr. Wilson wasn't like the punks you're used to fighting."

I nodded. "He was able to get me good. How did you find me?" I asked. My voice sounded like rusty gears scratching a chalkboard.

The Question dug into his coat's inside pocket and tossed something from inside it to me. It looked like a computer chip. The only thing I recognized was the Wayne Enterprises logo on it. "Am I supposed to know what this is?" I dryly asked.

"That is a military grade GPS beacon. I installed it into your armor, just in case."

I sat down in a chair by the dining table. "So you do care," I said. A smirk couldn't help but curl onto my face. The Question shook his head.

"That crap is expensive. I didn't want to lose it if you ran off or were killed."

"Are you really that paranoid?"

"I'm still alive right?" The Question retorted. "Anyway, we need to plan our next move."

I slumped over in my chair a bit. "I don't know if that's such a good idea," I muttered.

"Don't go angsty on me now Blake. I need you focused," The Question coldly rebuffed me.

My body started to tremble. "What exactly am I to you? Wayne at least treats me like a person. You act like I'm a freaking pawn!" I accused him. I wasn't ready for my first encounter and he was constructing a second one so soon? Sure time was a factor, but I wasn't willing to get beaten down again so soon.

The Question started to laugh. It was a low, spine chilling chuckle. I could make out a grin under his mask.

"I prefer the idea that you are an actor under my direction," he finally admitted after a minute or so of disturbing laughter.

My brow furled as I stood up. "Does that mean I'm your puppet then?" I spat.

The Question nonchalantly pulled out his right hand. It was bloodied and bandaged. He started to carefully examine it. "All the world is a stage, is it not? But believe you me, I'm as much an actor as you, Blake," he lightheartedly mused.

"What the hell does that even mean?" I demanded. The Questioned straightened up and locked eyes with me.

The Question's bandage clad hand clenched into a tight fist. "It means that even I have limits, Blake."

I angrily slammed my own fist on the table. It rattled around a bit. "And what? You think I don't have my limits too!"

My chest heaved up and down as I stared at him. The Question just stared back. I saw into his eyes for the first time. They were…zombified for lack of a better term. A tired sigh left his mouth. "That's because Batman can't afford to have any. _You_ can't afford to have any anymore," he calmly retorted.

I stopped for a second to catch my breath. "You really are crazy, aren't you?" I asked. The Question leaned forward.

"Do you think Bruce Wayne could have done all those feats that Batman did?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"It doesn't really I suppose. After all Bruce Wayne died in that ally too," The Question pointed out. He released his fist. "The dead don't have limits, Blake. That alone made Batman able to make the decisions others simply couldn't do."

My brow rose in suspicion. "Are you implying that I need to die?" I asked. The Question examined his bandaged hand.

"You need to die for the moment but come back. Men like Wayne and me, we're cynics and loners. Our faces are our masks, and we dance only to the dance of the dead," he somewhat lamented. He looked up at me. "Don't let John Blake stay dead."

I leaned back. I smiled a bit. "Don't worry, I'm right here," I reassured him. I recalled my training with Wayne. Even when he was with his children, he seemed distant. It was more like he was interacting with them from another dimension. Actually, he acted that way to everyone save me. I think he just enjoyed making me miserable.

"When you met Wayne, Batman, for the first time: what did you think of him?" I asked. It was random, but I was curious as to The Question's initial thoughts on the man.

"It was a different world. Green Arrow was only days away from his first appearance. The Huntress had yet to start her first violent crusade," he said. "Wayne was beaten down from his defeat in Gotham. His condition wasn't help by the abuse he went through before I was able to execute my rescue plan."

"How did you know he was in Thailand?" I asked. The other man shot me a somewhat skeptical glance.

"I can tell you what Lex Luthor is going to have for dinner tomorrow, how it will be prepared, as well as his wine selection, do you think tracking the location of one of the wealthiest men alive is that difficult for me?" he sarcastically shot back. "Anyway, I…I didn't pity him exactly. But it's hard to look at a man who fought so hard to end up with such a terrible fate and not feel something. But I certainly wouldn't call it pity."

"And here I thought you really were just a heartless ass."

"Cute, Blake. We met for the first time, in the village where you found him. He was tired from the trip. I had to let him sleep before we could discuss the business of finding a successor."

"What about that Rock guy?"

"What about him?"

"He escorted Wayne to the village right? What happened to him?"

"I gave him his payment and he left. I haven't seen him since."

"It's unlike you to let an asset like him go."

"Who said I let him go?"

"What you murdered him?"

"No, I put him somewhere safe. You don't stay alive long when a section of the Russian Mob has a price on your head by sticking out in the open."

"Can I ask you something?" I said before an awkward silence formed between us.

"I suppose so. But then we need to get to work."

I took a deep breath. "Who were you before you became The Question?"

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Welcome to the May Blitz. Why this? Well for one, I need to get things set up for act three and this is a good way of getting everyone up to speed. Plus these three are pretty interconnected so it would be a dick move if I just stopped it here given the scheduling shake up that I'm going to discuss later.

So this chapter is mostly for expanding on Blake and The Question's relationship. I also wanted to touch on what kind of Batman Blake is supposed to become. Which I think is the most interesting part of superhero legacy. Whether you were selected to replace a hero or you pick up the mantle after it had be vacated, you have certain expectations to meet. However your morals and attitudes will inevitably vary from those of your predecessor. You have to balance your personality against that of what your heroic alter-ego represents.


	14. Chapter 14

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter XIV: Tears Don't Fall

The laughter of the man in the coat and hat echoed around the construction site. It bounced off of everything, turning into maniacal roar. My fingers were getting twitchy.

His back was to me. He was vulnerable. "Come on asshole, who the fuck are you?" I shouted at him. The man pulled off his sunglasses and placed them in his coat. His right hand went to his mask. He paused for a moment then peeled it down.

He slowly turned around, removing his hat as he did. My legs gave out, pistols fell to the side. "No, no, no. Why you? Why now?"

"I suppose that is the question," Rock said. A twisted smile crept over his face. "It's been awhile hasn't it Revy?"

My face twitched at his words. "Awhile, is that all? Don't feed me that shit, where the fuck have you been?" I demanded in a rage after regaining some sense.

Rock bobbed his head side to side a moment. "Here and there," he danced. "Doing this and that."

"Quit playing games!"

Rock nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "I'm a busy man, Revy. You can't expect me to remember every detail of my life from the last few years," he drolly taunted.

"Busy? Busy?" I shouted. I stood up. "Busy doing what?"

Rock raised his arms put to his side, palms to the sky. "Saving the world, of course."

"What the fuck are you talking about? You aren't one of those damn heroes running around a city."

"No, I'm not," Rock mournfully admitted with a shake of his head. "That's why I've putting my talents to use by building something that will certainly help my goal of keeping the world safe. The desolation of Roanpur turned out to be a nice side effect of putting my plan in to motion."

"What the fuck are you saying? That you convinced Balalaika to attack everyone out of spite or some shit?"

"No, even I'm not that good. I merely needed something she had. So I retrieved the shattered remains of the Batman through...questionable means."

My eyes blinked. "You broke out Wayne? Why the fuck would you throw out all the work you did?"

Rock sighed. "I admit it was a bit spur-of-the-moment and it cost me almost every dime I had. The results thus far have been—"

He was interrupted by his watch going off. He nonchalantly turned off the alarm. "Not great, but things will work out eventually. Now if you'll excuse me, I have something to pick up."

I raised my gun right at his chest. "Not until you tell me what the hell that night was and why you threw it all away."

Rock rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It was a mistake, Revy. I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you," he forced out the apology.

"Oh boy, it was a huge freaking mistake, Rock."

His fingers paused, masking his face a bit. A dark smile grew out of his lips underneath. He removed his hand. A black flame blazed in the back of his eyes. "Oh are you going bring Lee into this now?" his venomous words trickled off his tongue.

I never thought Rock had the power to knock the wind out of me. The way he condescendingly asked the question, the way he contemptibly spat her name. His words alone had enough punch to steal the air filled me back up with rage. "She's your fucking daughter Rock! And you left her to do what? Go play superhero with a rich clown with mommy issues!"

Rock rolled his eyes as if he were annoyed with a pestering of a child. "Please Revy; don't pretend I'm the only one in the quote-unquote wrong here. You abandoned Lee as soon as you could. Do you really think that you care about her? Of course not. You don't give a damn about the kid and you know it. At least I'm honest about my feelings instead of hiding behind a false sense accomplishment for taking her on a dangerous global manhunt," Rock coolly retorted. A long breath escaped his lips. "And even if I did stay, do you think our lives would have been perfect? That we'd just settle down and play house until we turn old and grey? No Revy, that life isn't us. People like you and me; we're destined for a short ride and a shallow grave. All that matters is how we spend that time."

"And now you spend that time playing hero, how pathetic," I muttered.

"I'm no hero Revy. But I'm trying to accomplish something greater than myself. What have you done with your life? Nothing, you've only been an engine of death and destruction to everyone you've ever come across," Rock said.

"Yeah? Well then good job there letting the majority of the Australian Government knocked out by one guy."

"It was a hand full of midlevel bureaucrats, Revy. So some people will be delayed getting their driver's license, it isn't some epic national tragedy," Rock mockingly brushed off.

He started to walk by me. His composure was stone cold even as released the safeties of my weapons.

"Please, Revy. How many times have we been in this exact situation? If you really wanted to kill me, you'd have done it already; and do you honestly believe that if I thought you were really going to kill me, we'd even have this meeting?" he mocked. He continued on. "Until next time." The bastard didn't even spare a passing glance before he disappeared.

I fell back to my knees. My chest heaved for air. The pistols in my hand grew heavy. I raised them up as best I could and fire them until the only sound I could hear over the ringing in my ears was the empty clicks of the triggers.

The urge to throw my guns shook my arm. I holstered them and quickly left the scene. Somebody must have heard that tantrum and had called the cops. It was difficult to move around the city now. People clogged up just about every path possible. Police were scattered all over the place. Helicopters had taken to the sky.

Fear was heavy in the air. It left a palatable taste on my tongue as I escaped to the docks. Benny was nervously pacing by the boat. Lee was fishing with a small rod off of the side of the dock. Her tiny, bear feet dangled of the ledge, waving around impatiently. Her dark hair was hidden of

I rushed up to Benny, delivering a cross arm to his lower jaw. Not enough to do serious damage but enough to send him back a few feet. I quickly grabbed the man by his shirt's collar before he fell over and yanked him up so that we were at eye level.

Lee had set her rod aside and was nervously watching the scene unfold. Not that I gave a damn at that. Benny's face was resigned.

"You lying sonofabitch, you knew the whole damn time!" I screamed at him. Benny just looked into my eyes. "Why string me along like this huh? Was this some fucked up joke you two came up with?"

The blonde man looked into my eyes. "Why Benny?" I said. My body started to quake under the rage building in my chest.

"Because Rock asked me to. I'm sorry but he paid me twenty grand a year to keep quiet and provide him with information every now and again."

That stabbed deep. The bastard paid off our friend to keep his secret and me out of the loop.

"So why break your promise now?"

Benny shook his head. "Because it's time to get out Revy, before this world of ours becomes unrecognizable. We can all find a nice private place to retire and leave the world of crime to the new order," he admitted.

Fuck that, I was going to make Rock pay before I could even contemplate retiring. No more fucking sentimentality, no more holding back. I was going to put a bullet in his brain and leave his corpse to the fucking dogs.

I threw Benny aside and boarded my ship. I stormed into the galley. My eyes went to the locked up cabinet in the corner. It took a moment for me to work the combination. I threw the lock aside and opened the cabinet. Inside were a few bottles of heavy booze. I pulled out a bottle of whisky.

The cap didn't stand a chance. The grooves were probably totally stripped. Not that I gave a fuck. I put the bottle to my lips and began chugging the amber liquid.

Once that bottle was empty, the process repeated on another bottle. Pretty soon I was lying on my back looking up at the ceiling. Everything was spinning a bit. I felt someone watching me. I struggled to get my arms under my body to lift myself up.

Lee was standing in the doorway. Her eyes were wide, sunhat clutched in her hand. I barely made it up to my feet. The girl stood there looking at me. "And what the fuck are you looking at," I grumbled.

"Are you alright…" I think she started asked. Her face started blur. I blinked a few times before I reached out with my hand, sweeping left and right until I felt the tufts of her hair. My fingers finally curled around black locks. I felt a squirm under my grasp.

"Am I alright? Am I alright!" I shouted. My hand started to quiver. I yanked their head up. "Look at me! Do I look alright?"

I heard a whimper in response. Through my stupor, I saw Rock. My heart sped up and the fire in my belly grew to an inferno. I felt my hand move across their face. Their hair slipped from my grip. Louder sobbing echoed up from the ground.

"Don't cry," I mumbled. I lifted them back up to their feet. "You don't get to cry."

I delivered another blow. "You think I'm going to forgive you. For all the shit. You put me through?" I slurred out. My hand rose again. "After I fucking saved you? This is how you repay me?"

My hand started to fall again. It was caught mid-strike. I looked around to find Benny holding my arm back. "Stop it Revy," he growled.

I looked down to see Lee again. Her face was reddened, eyes puffy with tears and fear. Lee's face became mine. A thousand memories filled my drunken mind. I heard my father's obnoxious voice and felt his blows. My hand trembled.

Rock's mocking voice whispered in my ears.

_See, you don't give a damn about her._

_Look at you, real mother of the year._

_Like father, like daughter, aye Revy?_

The words swirled into a vortex of shame, taking the air right out of my lungs. I let go of the girl and forced my arm away from Benny. I stumbled down the hall to my room as fast as I could. I crashed on my bed only to be embraced by a restless sleep.

My eyes creaked opened to find it early morning. I got up off of my bed. A layer of sweat had bonded my sheets to my body. I ripped it off and swung my legs over the side of my bed. Every slice of grey matter in my head ached. Benny and Lee were still asleep so I quietly went back to the galley. There was still several bottles of booze left in the cupboard. I pulled them all out.

I clutched a heavy bottle of amber whisky. My body ached for the drink. I crashed down hard on my lips

It took a while and a precarious balancing act but I brought all of them to the edge of the dock. I then went back to the fridge and took out all the beer. I took it to the dock as well.

I began to chunk it all into the sea. Can by can, bottle by bottle I threw it all away. I screamed in rage as the last one sailed through the air.

"I don't think they will make that a legit step but I think it will work," I heard Benny comment from behind me. I turned around. Contrary to the comedy injected into his words, the man was clearly rather grim. "I told her not to talk to you, but she slipped away when I wasn't looking. I'm sorry I put you in that position."

"The fuck do you have to be sorry about? You weren't the drunken bitch who slapped around a fucking kid," I glumly retorted. I sat down on the edge of the dock. There was a seething pit of self-loathing growing in my chest. It was something I had never felt before. And I hated it. I wanted to lash out at something, anything to make it go away. But then I remembered what I did.

I could have really fucked her up and probably damaged whatever flimsy term described our relationship beyond repair.

"So what caused this little demonstration?"

"Because…I have something to say to her, can you get her for me? I swear nothing will happen," I promised.

Benny crunched his lip for a minute. He finally nodded. He brought Lee out after searching for her. Lee's face was bruised. She kept her head low as she approached.

I couldn't look at her, at what I did to her. I motioned for her to sit beside me. A moment of hesitation and a nervous glance to Benny followed but she did do it. I felt a little relief followed by a torrent of guilt. I nervously cleared my throat.

"Listen kid, yesterday…I'm sorry about what happened," I started. The words took every fiber of my being to get them out. "I was angry and stupid and you...you didn't deserve it."

I turned my head to Lee. She looked up at me for a moment before turning her head away. "Maybe you're too young to get this and maybe you'll never forgive me, but I want you to know that I'm not going to leave you again," I said.

"You mean it?" she asked. Lee's face was aimed at her still feet.

I slid my arm around her shoulder. Lee flinched at the move but remained calm. "I promise you kid, I'll be there for you," I said.

The two of us sat there at the edge of the dock. A cool sea breeze washed over us. Lee occasionally glanced at me. I never responded. Benny came back with a bag of ice, which I gently applied to the girl's face. She reluctantly let me tend to her injury. Our relationship had become like every other one I ever had: totally fucked. Now I was panicking to do damage control.

"Mama?" she finally spoke up. "Where is daddy?"

My teeth clamped down hard on my lips. I don't think there was an easy way to tell the girl that her father was an egomaniacal prick that was chasing some fool's errand in the name of what? Safety? Security?

I pulled Lee in closer to me. "Your dad is...dead," I answered. The girl shook her head.

"I saw him Jak-ought-ah," she insisted. I nodded. She did apparently.

"That was only a man with his face."

"When did he die?" she disappointingly asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

"A few years ago, probably a few months before you were born."

"Oh."

I saw the faintest glimmer of tears forming in her eyes. My arm tightened around her shoulders. "I know that if he were here, he'd...he'd never have let me do what I did to you. That's why I'm going to make sure it never happens again. For him."

"Did you love him?" Lee asked.

Her bluntness gave me pause. Did I? I turned my face away from the girl. "I don't know," I whispered.

"Do you love me?"

I looked back to her. My sick handiwork was starting to disappear with the subsiding of the swelling on her face. "I want to. More than anything."

That was probably the most honest statement I had ever said to her.

Lee put her hands around my waist and buried her head into the side of my chest. Our relationship might have been fucked, but for the moment we were in a slightly less fucked position. And fuck you Rock. Fuck you. I was going to be part of this kid's life and you could go to hell.

The girl released me after a moment and got up out of my grip and stood up. I joined her. I examined her face one more time. She looked almost exactly like her father when I first met him, only less of a pussy. There was just one more thing to do before our relationship could move on from less fucked to more normal than fucked. I had to officially kill her father.

Lee smiled and ran off when her stomach growled.

"So I take it that booze is out too?" Benny asked. He had stuffed his hands in his pockets. I nodded. Never again. I was never going to lose control like that again.

That night I was huddled over my desk. My cutlasses were disassembled on top of it. A few nine mil bullets were scattered on the edges. I was diligently inspecting each piece of my weapons.

Benny knocked on my door. He stepped in. "You are going to kill him aren't you?" he asked.

"Yep," I mumbled. I continued maintaining my weapons. "So where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Are you going to find out?"

"I don't know."

"He ruined everything Benny, for me, for you…for her. I'm not going to be able to rest until he is a corpse," I hissed.

The man just nodded. "I'll make some calls then. But I advise against it."

"I don't give a damn about what you advise. Once he is cold on the floor, then we'll talk."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Careful about spoilers in the comments please.


	15. Chapter 15

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter XV: Solus Ipse

I prided myself on my cool, confident professionalism. It was a trait I inherited from one of my predecessors, the polite and meek Rokoru Okagima. He died some time ago in the city of Roanapur. Rock replaced him as the guy in the tie from Lagoon Company. But Rock was dead as well, having at last been consumed by the city some years ago. I had just left a meeting with perhaps the most important person of both their lives. Even though it meant nothing to me. I couldn't help but feel a well of emotions spring up from their graves.

Anger.

Nostalgia.

Fear.

Alas I had no time to deal with them. I was the Question and the Question alone, and I had a job to do. Namely, find John Blake. His emergency beacon went off which meant his heart had stopped. He was to valuable an asset to lose so soon.

Based on the coordinates I received and a quick run through Google maps, Blake had apparently ended up near the exit of a sewer. I replaced my mask and picked up the pace. Sydney was starting to lock down. I'd need to hurry. I looked at my watch. His vitals were still down. I hit a button on it.

It sent a signal to the armor to preform CPR on his chest. I wasn't sure if it was going to help but the process would repeat until vitals returned or I stopped it. After a tense minute a faint signal came back. I let out a sigh. Now I really needed to find him.

Even though Blake was innocent of the assassinations, I had my doubts that if the police picked him up I would be able him out; especially after the whole dead bureaucrats at the hands of a dangerous psychopath on my watch incident. There wasn't enough clout in the world for me to get the order through.

There was the whole daring rescue plan sure. But putting that together would take time. A resource we were in short supply of. No doubt his meeting with Wilson went south and the mercenary was on his way out of the country. We'd need to act fast in order to figure out where he was headed.

Blake's unconscious body had drifted to the side of a canal. I flipped him over. His breathing was shallow and a bit erratic. I shook my head and stripped of my coat and put it around him. It took a minute to get the leverage to lift him up on to his feet.

I then began the rather arduous task of adjusting his limp body against me. Occasionally the young man mumbled something between heavy breaths. I waddled us over to the car I rented.

Once he was settled, I got in and turned it. The engine hummed as I carefully made my way back to our apartment. I quickly hurried us up to it after I parked.

I quickly took off Blake's armor. I removed the GPS transponder from the back of the suit and slipped it into my coat to reset it later. After Blake was settled into bed to recover, I began my own work. A pen and some paper were going to have to suffice for them moment.

I turned on the TV and tuned into the news. The first thing I wrote down was the names of the victims. From there I began to draw up possible outcomes. They were as I suspected bureaucrats. However as I peeled back the layers, it was clear that those that died were more than just desk jockeys. They were the movers and shakers of government middle management.

Soon the maps and charts that lined the walls were down and replaced with a new tumorous entity. My calculations grew more and more complex. A wave of dread washed over me as I finished my work. In a matter of weeks the Commonwealth of Australia would collapse. Its trade would grind to a halt, healthcare collapse, and pensions stalled. Slade had more guile and skill than I gave him credit for. He singlehandedly pulled off an operation meant for a team of six plus support staff. I was expecting a much cruder lone gunman type assassination like Oswald's attempt.

Every time I read over my work, the sicker I felt. I stumbled into the bathroom, bracing myself against the counter. My stomach felt like it was force its way out of my mouth. My gaze looked up into the mirror between ragged pants. Staring back at me was a dead man's face. An ember lit up in my stomach. The longer I looked into the mirror, the brighter and hotter it got.

My thoughts turned from work and to the past, to the run in with the woman.

Those feelings I suppressed returned with a vengeance. Here I thought I had exorcised those feelings long ago. I knew that bastard Benny had probably set it up, in the vain hope that seeing her would convince me to drop off my mission, resurrect Rock, and go off into the sunset.

I thought I could indulge him in his little plan. Rock was a weak man. But I was the Question! I was strong enough to handle one woman from his life. Or at least I had hoped I was.

Despite the analysis that still needed to be done, my heart wasn't in it. I put it all down and went into the bathroom.

I stared at my reflection, at the real mask.

My fist curled up. I punched the mirror as hard as I could.

What the fuck had I done?

I left my friends!

I left my home!

I left the one woman who seemed to give a damn about me!

I left our damn child!

Lee...my little girl Lee.

According to Benny she knew who I was. My face. My name. Just knowing that my little girl only knew me through a picture and whatever Dutch and Benny shared with her ate at me all the time.

And what did I know about her? All I knew was her name and a vague idea of her birthday. I had only seen her once in my life, in Jakarta not long ago. It was at a distance too. But close to know she was mine…and hers. It was amazing that even at such a young age she looked so much like her mother.

Her mother…

I remember Wayne once told me…no the Question, that the Joker once said that chaos was like gravity: all you needed was a little push to put an event in motion. It was perhaps the most apt description of how to describe my life I had ever heard.

But what happened to me wasn't even a push. It was a light tap in the form of a woman dressed in half a tank top and Daisy Dukes aiming a Beretta 92FS at my head. With a simple order to move, all hell broke loose in my life. I became a pirate, a con man, and a strategist for the various players of the underworld.

She was my villain, my nightmare. My savior, my dream.

Her name was Revy.

The mother of my daughter and the woman who set in motion the events that would keep us all apart.

I remembered the night where it all came together. It was a night of passion and regret. For a brief moment, tangled in her arms and the sheets with cigarette in my lips, I thought I had a chance to be h…

No, no, no.

Those were Rock's thoughts. Rock's life. Rock was dead. I was the Question. The only thing that mattered was giving that girl and everyone else a safer world.

Pain erupted in my fist. Bits of glass had gotten stuck in my skin. Blood poured out of the wounds. I tried to curl my hand a bit only to be reward by a jolt of pain. A sting of grumbles fell out of my mouth as my hand searched in the cabinet for bandages with my healthy hand. My fingers curled around my prize. I took a pair of tweezers and quickly plucked the glass, placing the shards on a paper towel. More blood flowed out of the cuts. My lip twitched in pain.

Once it was clear of debris, I ran some rubbing alcohol over the cuts and wrapped up the hand. The mirror was devastated, covered in easily over a dozen impact sites. I'd have to replace it now. Another item for Wayne's tab.

I made my way out of the bathroom to my room. A small, portable safe was in the corner. The only luggage I brought with me on the trip. I dropped to my knees and opened it. Inside it were just a couple of things, sentiments really. One of the items was an old prepaid cellphone hooked up to a complicated device. A common trope in movies was that of the president with the red phone. It was one of the most memetic visual shorthands for the start of the end of the end of the world. That little phone was my equivalent of that. It could only call one number and the call couldn't be canceled. But with it, I could bring the wrath of god upon any place I chose. The cost of the call would most likely be my life.

Early on in my career as the Question, I'd spend sleepless nights holding it in my hands. My thumb would hover over the call button. I'd wonder if I should push it, spill my guts, and wait for the end to arrive.

The other item in the safe was a pack of cigarettes still in the plastic wrap. It was the last pack I bought before I put my plans in motion. I wasn't sure why I still had them. I quit smoking years ago. The only remnant of the habit was the lighter I kept on me. But that had evolved into a tool for other uses, mostly burning papers.

My regular phone went off, snapping me out of that little daze. I stuffed the mementos into my jacket and pulled out my phone. Wayne was calling via the secure network he had Fox devised. I answered it. "Q here."

"We need to talk," Wayne replied. He sounded annoyed.

"What about?" I asked.

"Lucius is thinking about retiring."

That wasn't good.

"He said he'll hold off on announcing it until I have a successor lined up," Wayne added.

Bruce Wayne was always presented as a carefree playboy, never once indicating he had an ounce of business sense. Alas most people didn't understand the elegance of the mask. I'd call him two-faced, but I was concerned I wouldn't make it five seconds after such remarks were made. What Wayne was describing was standard operating procedure for large public corporations: when a bigwig steps down, make sure to have a replacement already in the wings to take their place. To not have one immediately ready to jump in would raise suspicion about the health of the company.

Considering Wayne Enterprises' Beta R&amp;D budget was the back funding I needed for my project, we didn't need any suspicious eyes looking over the company's spending.

"Who did you have in mind?" I asked. We'd need someone we could trust, but also manipulate if need be.

"Rokoru Okagima."

I didn't know how one measures restraint but I do know that I'd have broken it by the sheer act of not crush my phone with my hand. Or throw it across the room. "Rokoru Okagima is dead Wayne. He's been dead for years."

"So is Bruce Wayne and you don't hear him complaining."

"You know that what you are asking is impossible, right? Some no name Japanese salaryman who happens to have gone missing in the South China Sea years ago not to mention might be implicated in a dangerous gang war in Japan suddenly becomes the CEO of a Forbes 500 company. I've asked this before, but I'm going to again because I mean it this time. Are you insane?" I growled.

"Don't worry; I'm putting your papers together. It will be fine."

"That might not be enough."

"Well then anything you haven't shared with me is up to you to take care of. You can't fight this one Q, you are going to be Wayne Enterprises' next CEO."

I sighed. I didn't have time to argue this. "Where are you?"

"Bangkok. We're waiting for my private jet to arrive and then it's straight to Gotham. I'll meet you and Blake at Wayne Manor once Wilson is behind bars."

The call clicked off. Well then, I had to catch Wilson. He was certainly on his way out of the country by now. There was one person who could figure out how he got out and build his route from there. I scrolled through my contacts. I hit the number of the person I was looking for and the call went out.

"Hello?" a woman groggily answered.

"It's the Question."

"Yeah, I know that boss-man. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yes I know what time it is," I replied. I forgot I was calling San Francisco. "Anyway, I have a job for you. It's simple really: I need you to get into the Sydney Transportation Hub. Look for anything suspicious."

"Sydney…"

"Australia."

"And you want me to find something suspicious? In one of the biggest regional transportation hubs?"

"Oh, right. The city is under lockdown. Just check the news. So yeah, mark anything that looks like it shouldn't be moving but is. But if you happen to see a one Slade Wilson, drop everything and send what you have to me. I'll call in a few hours to check on your progress. Thanks."

I hung up and slipped my phone back into my pocket. The rest of the day seemed pass-by in a blur. I remember hitting the booze pretty hard. I was awakened by Blake rustling around in the living room. I quickly replaced my mask.

Blake wasn't like Wayne or me. He was a different kind of person. He refused to die. He didn't allow the mask to consume him. I felt a pang of envy. John Blake was the hero of the future, a future where the limitless Batman was a temporary mask.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: My government professor once asked our class if we'd rather live in a safe society or a safer society. After all what would you have to do to ensure that no crime is ever committed versus what we have now?

Okay then, announcement time. _Knighthood_ and _The Serial Experiment_ are going onto the back burners for now as I am going back to work on some older projects for the summer. Don't worry I'll still be working on them during any extra free time I get, but don't expect any postings until September. Also you might see a Start Trek story in June.

Thanks for your patients and support.

Until next time, Perhaps there was no line {And our worlds were always one}


	16. Chapter 16

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter XVI: Sins of the Father

"Who was I before I became the Question?"the faceless man mulled over my inquiry. His head cocked back and forth. "Nobody important."

A surprisingly humble but not very satisfactory answer. "You have to have a name or a family or something?" I followed up.

The Question shrugged. "Perhaps. I had to give up a lot to become what I am," the man mumbled.

Now I was getting angry. "Give me something man. You're just this mannequin that walks around to me," I elaborated. The Question shook his head slightly.

He let out a short, condescending laugh. "You seem to be under the impression that we're friends or something," he quipped. He leaned forward.

"I'm not one to presume impossibilities. What I want to know is why you think hiding yourself in secrecy is a good idea," I finally laid out.

The Question's phone rang. "Hold that thought," he said. He pulled out his phone and answered it. "Give me something good."

He nodded and hmmed at whatever the person on the other side of the line was saying. "Interesting. Good job. I'll try and drop by afterward. See you then," he signed off. The masked man hung up the phone and focused on me.

Even behind the mask, I knew he was smiling. And that put me on edge. "So you want to know why I hide myself away? Very well. No games, no plans," he said. He pulled out a heavily modified cellphone out of his jacket. His thumb hit the call button, arm bringing it up to his ear.

It didn't take long for the person on the other side to pick up. "It's me," the Question greeted in a cold, confident manner. I could hear a series of screams coming from what sounded like a Russian woman wailing on the man. The Question took it all in stride.

"Shut up and listen to me for once. I want this Cold War done with. If you want me, I'll be at the Los Angeles south docks in sixteen days," the Question coolly replied.

The man threw the phone the floor just as it shorted out. He stood up. "What was that?" I asked.

The Question proceeded to crush the phone with his foot. "Me making your life miserable," he answered as he lifted up his shoe. He stood up and walked over to his computer.

I felt my eye twitch. "What?" I demanded.

"According to my best source, Slade Wilson will arrive in Los Angeles in sixteen days. Batman will be there to greet him of course. Also making an appearance will be the same force that defeated Batman. You're welcome."

"Are you _fucking_ insane?" I shouted.

"Sanity does seem to be a resource in short supply these days," the Question sarcastically commented.

"Goddamn it!" I barked. My voice sounded like I was about to pass out, but I didn't care.

The masked man waved me off with a lazy backhand. "Please, do you think I'd just introduce an unstable element for the hell of it? I have a plan to handle them," he said.

"You just said there was no plan!"

"That was then. This is now, and now there's a plan," he nonchalantly stated with a wave of his hand.

I couldn't help but groan. I just avoided death only to be faced by an even worse death. "Are you saying that in order to make me feel better or you feel better?"

"Maybe I really do have a plan, Blake. Now hold on a second," he dismissed me. He put on a headset and hit the enter key. We waited in awkward silence for a minute. "Fox, it's Q."

"This isn't about your retirement. Look we're on the clock."

"It's rather serious. Wilson is on his way home with enough information to destabilize the country."

"I'm deploying the new guy."

"You haven't seen what he did in Oz otherwise I'd agree. That's why I want you to deploy the beta equipment. It should equalize the situation."

"Angel Site. Right, later."

The Question ended the call. He turned back to me. "See one problem down. One to go."

"Your capacity to make vague phone calls isn't what I'd call reassuring," I retorted. The Question just sighed with a shake of his head.

"Some people are never pleased."

"I think there is a difference between being pleased and being thrown to the wolves."

"Well most people don't get 'thrown to the wolves' in top of the line combat armor."

"You realize I've already been in that scenario before?" I pointed out. The Question stopped his work and turned to me. He stroked where his mouth might have been. He was clearly trying to hold back a laugh. I crossed my arms. "Yeah, the whole almost died thing."

"I'm sorry," he said as he caught his breath. "That was a serious situation I know, but it's funny to think about in those terms." I wasn't sure if such a revelation of the Question's humanity was alleviating or terrifying.

"Anyway, your assessment of your encounter with Wilson is somewhat inaccurate. That wasn't top armor of the line at all. It's at least six years old," he explained.

"So much for being fond of me," I mumbled. The Question returned to work.

"I told you, it was a parting gift if you decided the Batman thing was too much. Wayne may be rich and his company successful, but that doesn't mean we're going to splurge on a drop out," he said over his rhythmic thing.

"Tell me, when was the last time the general public saw Wayne? Six years? Haven't you ever wondered why no one's ever reported him dead?"

I paused. "You've been spending his money."

The Question nodded in rare approval. "Exactly. How can a deadman spend money?"

"I hope he approves," I rebuttaled.

"Does he honestly look like he needs the money?" The Question pointed out.

There was nothing to do but shrug at his observation. "No I suppose not," I admitted. It was odd to think about Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy, the Batman, ending up as a humble baker in the jungles of Thailand. Was it a fitting end? I don't know. It was certainly an odd end.

A printer started churn out some paper. It was a plane ticket for a one way trip to LAX. "Now if you don't mind, 'Mr. Grayson,' I need you to get your stuff and call a cab for the airport," The Question ordered.

My brow cocked up. "Shouldn't I like recover first?" I asked.

"We don't have time here. Shit's about to hit the fan and I'd like to be out of here before it gets there," The Question stated. There was a robotic level of logic in the way he told me.

I slumped my head, remembering that I still failed. "I'm sorry," I said.

The Question sighed. "What happened, happened Blake. We can't dwell on what ifs. We can only deal with the outcomes. To do otherwise is to engage in fantasy and delusion."

I straightened up a bit. The Question handed me the ticket. "Leave your armor. Good luck," he said. The man stood up and went to his room, closing the door behind him.

I followed suit, going back to my own room. I found my stuff and packed it up into a single duffle bag. After that was done, I went to the closet and pulled out a business suit.

He called a cab and pretty soon was waiting for his flight. He was in the relaxing at the gate when a pair of fine legs strode past his vision. Blake followed them up to find they belonged to a woman in lavender with long dark hair. The woman in question sat down next to him after failing to find another seat in the crowded waiting area.

"You don't mind?" she asked. It was phased like a question but came out like command. She lacked the local accent, sounding like an American urbanite.

"No," I stammered. It felt like forever since I talked to a woman. Well a woman who didn't hate me or girl who seemed to take pleasure out of beating the crap out of me.

"You're an American too?" she asked. I nodded. I studied her a moment, allowing a wave of familiarity to hit me.

"You're Lois Lane, aren't you?"

The woman blushed a little. "Yes, I am," she admitted.

"What are you doing here?" Wow that was a stupid question to ask a world class reporter. Lane smiled sheepishly.

"I heard something big was going in the city. Why are you here Mister..."

"Grayson. Dick Grayson," I blurted my fake name.

"Mr. Grayson."

"Uh, Dick is just fine."

"Really? I've met a number of dicks in my life I but not…you know, an actual Dick."

I tried my best to keep up an air of pretense about my false identity. "I get that a lot," I said.

"So what brought you to the land down under?" Lane asked.

"Work, I suppose," I answered. Lane's eyebrow rose a bit at the response.

"Who do you work for?" she followed up. I tried to remain calm, racking my brain for a quick answer.

"Wayne Enterprises," I answered. Why? I couldn't say. Might as well have been true considering how close I worked with the puppet masters.

Now that got the woman's attention. "I wasn't aware that Wayne had anything around here," she pointed out.

"Well see," I started. I needed an excuse and fast. "They needed me to use my vacation days."

Lane laughed a bit. "Busy body huh?" she asked.

"Yeah I suppose so," I mumbled.

"What's your job at Wayne Enterprises that has you so bogged down? Or is that ND?"

"Uh I can't talk about it," I answered.

Lane nodded. "Say no more, Dick," Lane said. An awkward silence was about to descend on us. But there was a question on my mind. One that had been niggling in the back of my mind since I learned where I was going. I turned to Lane.

"Could I pass a hypothetical by you, Ms. Lane?" I asked her. Lane cocked an eyebrow.

"I find Italian cliche, I don't like live music, and no sex at the end," Lois responded with almost robotic recall.

My cheeks reddened a bit. "No I...not that," I sputtered.

"Oh, well I guess I'm just cynical at this point. Lois is fine by the way. So what's your hypothetical?"

Okay. "If Batman were to return, somehow, but his first appearance wasn't in Gotham, what do you think that would mean?"

Lane's eyes narrowed in. Her expression became suspicious. "Why are you asking this exactly?"

"I...was something of a fan back in the day."

"Huh? Well what would it mean? Well did you ever read _The Joker Revolution_?"

"Uh...no," I answered. That was probably going on my reading list.

"It's the book based on Dr. Harleen Quinzel's PhD work. It's a good read. Anyway, in it she found a quote attributed to The Joker. He said 'Batman has no jurisdiction.' So my answer would be: the criminals in Gotham would definitely have something to fear again."

We spent the rest of the time at the gate talking about more mundane topics. Finally First Class was called and Lane stood up. She offered her hand to me. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe," I answered. Not much later I was in my seat, waiting for takeoff. It felt odd going home. Well not home home, but back to America. I was going to order a hamburger and a Coke and consequences be damned.

Indeed the first thing I did was stop in at a greasy, hole-in-the-wall burger joint and ordered a heart attack on a bun. It wasn't as satisfying as I hoped. Granted, my attention was focused on the one television the joint had put most of its budget. It was turned in on CNN, which made it surprising that something of relevance was on.

It was the arrival of a small private jet landing in Gotham City. On any other day it would this would have unremarkable. But the jet had Wayne Enterprises logo on it. The caption underneath the live feed read "Prodigal Son Returns?"

The plane landed and pulled up to a red carpet laid out on the tarmac where a small brigade of journalists was waiting. An anxious silence fell over the crowd. I couldn't help but smirk. The flurry of activity in the wake of the silence was the stuff of Hollywood melodrama. Bruce Wayne was standing in the jet's now open door. That, in and of itself, might have made a stir. But my money was on the source being the woman nervously holding his hand.

It was fire and ice watching Bruce and Mai walked down to the ground. Years may have passed since Wayne left the public eye but he looked like the whole thing was a daily occurrence, brimming with a swagger that was becoming of a man of Wayne's reputation. His suite was the sharpest I had ever seen, clearly made of top shelf material. The only things of note that stood out were the fact that he was wearing black gloves and that his walking posture was subtly supplemented by braces. Wayne generously waved at the crowd as he and his wife continued down the carpet to the flash of cameras and disbelieving stares.

Mai on the other hand was stiff and nervous. She was clearly not used to wearing heels or the rather conservative red blouse and skirt she wore. Her smile was attempting to be polite and natural. I felt that Mai was…no, bitch seemed way too strong of a word. Bossy and judgmental, yes. Mai was bossy and judgmental, especially towards me, but I did feel sorry for her. She was a girl from rural Thailand that had been lifted overnight to American royalty. Probably literally given how terrified she looked.

Things seemed to have calmed down only to erupt once more as the camera turned its attention to two finely dressed children being escorted by security personnel. Damian looked bemused by the whole affair as he clutched Cassandra's hand. His sister seemed skeptical of...well everything. Cassandra honestly terrified me. Granted, I spent a good deal of my training getting smacked around by her.

The security guards kept the media dogs at bay for the children as they were escorted to a stage to rejoin their parents. Mai quickly took control of them. Wayne took the podium at the center of the stage.

After a moment of settling, Wayne cleared his throat. He checked his watch and took a breath. "Thank you all for coming out this afternoon. I know it's been a long time since well…a while now. No doubt many of you are wondering what happened, where did I go? The truth as it stands is…that I lost…it. So I ran off, leaving the responsibilities of this world behind," he started.

"But now I have a wife and children to think about. So after these last few years in self-imposed exile, I've decided that it is time to return. We lost just about everything when the Batman disappeared. Our city, once so close to peace, was overrun with crime like it was before the Caped Crusader. Hope seemed to finally have run dry in our city. But after raising my children for so long, I came to realize that hope is not something given from up high. No we must look inside and to each other for hope, and I have found mine. It's given me a vision for the future."

Wayne looked at me. Sort of. It may have been unintentional but knowing Wayne, it felt like he knew exactly where I was.

"There is some work to be done before I can begin and even after that I'm going to need every resource and ally I have. Thank you," Wayne finished. He and his family quickly shuffled over to a waiting limo. I knew what he meant. I had failed the Question. I wouldn't fail Wayne.

Too much was at stake.

My phone started to ring. I didn't recognize the number, but the area code was Gotham's. I looked back to the TV then answered it.

"Hello Mr. Blake. I understand your Wayne Enterprises' new prototype tester," a warm voice greeted.

"I…uh…yes?"

"I'm a friend of your boss so to speak. There will be a car waiting for you outside your hotel tonight. See you then."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: How is it going? Been a while right? Well I am back baby.

I know that this is a slow chapter but I'm trying to ease into act three. And in order to do that everyone needs to come together. So the dispersed story lines get to start intertwining after sixteen plus chapters.

This chapter I wanted to have Blake interact with someone other than the usual suspects. So why not Lois Lane? Don't read too much into that though. This isn't a spoiler or anything, I just don't focus on romance too often so don't expect something now.

Until next time, No here or there {only everywhere}


	17. Chapter 17

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter XVII: Harvester of Sorrow

A sea breeze past through my hair. Benny had smuggled us out of Australian waters after he found out where Rock was headed. The good old U S of A, specifically Los Angeles. I suppose there was a sort of irony in coming home to the city of angels. Even more so, considering I was there for sole purpose of killing a man.

I was sitting on the aft of the ship, working on some knots as a way of passing the time as the sun set. It turned out that besides drinking and guns I didn't have much in the way of hobbies. My attention would have been focused on the upcoming hunt. But Lee was with me, shaded by a sun hat.

Her eyes were focused intently on my finger work. She was determinately trying to emulate what I was doing. If she had been working with real rope, she'd have had a jumbled mess thanks to her poor dexterity. That was if she could get her hands around the rope.

Despite her obvious physical resemblance to her father, it was easy for me to forget about him with her around. I wanted to think about the future, past what was to come. How was I going to provide for us? Benny had only a finite amount of cash he could spare for us.

I didn't want to go back to crime. It made me too vulnerable. But what other skills did I have? Maybe run a bar? No, I was quitting the sauce so that wasn't going to work.

I suppose I could open a gun shop? But that would be expensive, and probably require knowing a thing or two about business. And background checks

Whatever I ended up with, my temperament would need an adjustment. If I let my temper get the better of me, wouldn't be able to hold jack.

Then there was where to live and how to get Lee a proper education. When I looked at her soft hands then to my rough, scared hands, I wanted to keep her hands the way they were. I wanted more than anything to give something more than the guttural scrapings I had lived on. The only way I knew how to get around this was to live in a good neighborhood and provide an education.

Lee wasn't going to grow up to be some shrinking violet pussy like her father. But she'd have a better chance in this world than I had.

Fuck I was starting to sound like a damn human being.

I undid my knot and scooted closer to Lee. I grabbed her hands, placing the rope in her tiny hands. I began showing her how to make a square knot. Lee struggled even with my help.

Benny sat down next us. "It's almost time for dinner. Lee, why don't you get ready for a bath first?" he suggested. Lee jumped up to her feet, handing the jumbled rope to me. She trotted into the cabin. I followed her as it was my turn to help her.

The girl was undressed by the tub by the time I got to the bathroom. I turned on the water. We waited a moment for it to fill before Lee got in. I grabbed a washcloth and some soap before plugging the tub and turning off the water.

I started cleaning Lee up. "Mama?" She asked as I started working some salt from her hair.

"What?"

"Do you love daddy?" she asked. That was a minefield I wasn't expecting.

"Why?" I asked. If this was a ruse set up by Benny I swear he was going overboard.

"Benny said babies come from mommies and daddies who love each other."

Well fuck. There was a dilemma that I really didn't want to wrangle with. The answer was definitely no, but considering her naiveté I'd need something more diplomatic.

I could be up front and tell her that she was the accident of subpar sex after a hazy night of drinking. But I doubt Benny would approve of me describing sex to her at such a young age. Plus what kid would want to know that they are a total accident. I began scrubbing a bit harder.

"You're here right, so what do you think?" I said. It was the most uncontroversial thing I could say. Lee seemed to puzzle over this, finally landing on an answer that she found logical in her mind.

"Then where's daddy?"

That question made me drop the washcloth. I gently grabbed her face, turning her to me. She wasn't going to hear the truth. Not from me, anyway. "He chose not to come back and he's not ever going to. So it's going to be me and you, kid," I said. I released Lee and finished washing her.

"Where is he?" Lee asked as I dried her off.

"Lost," I rather quickly said. It was about the most accurate description I could come up with on the fly.

"Lost?" Lee repeated from under the towel. "Then find him!"

There was a level of enthusiasm and excitement in her tone. I stopped drying her. "He wants to be lost," I answered. It wasn't as soul crushing as I thought it'd be. Instead she looked ponderous, or at least as a ponderous as a child could be.

"Wants to," Lee tried to comprehend the words.

"Yeah. Sometimes people...don't want to be found."

"Will come back?" Lee followed up. Odds were a no, but it was probably the only thing left to give her hope. I didn't want her to hate Rock, necessarily. When she was older, I'd explain what happened. Though she'd probably just think I'm insane. Which looking back, I might very well agree with her.

"I don't know. It's on him now to get back. There isn't anything else we can do."

We looked at each other for almost a minute. Lee seemed to understand. Her little face drifted to the realm of thought. The longer I stared at her though, the less of her father I saw and the more of Lee I saw.

Dinner was a quiet affair. I wasn't sure if it was because Lee was hungry or that she was

After dinner Lee was in the room we shared getting ready for bed. Benny and I were having a smoke out on the bow. I looked up at my old…friend.

"I'm surprised you agreed to this. You know what I'm going to do and you don't even seem bothered by it," I commented.

Benny took a drag and released the smoke. "I'm not worried. I know how this is going to end. And you know it too, you're just being stubborn about it," he said.

"Oh and how do you think this is gonna happen?" I growled. Benny shook his head.

"You're going to threaten him for bit before losing your edge and walk away. Just like always," he predicted.

"Not this time. I'm putting him in my past, permanently."

The words sounded harsh as they left my mouth. My eyes drifted to my cigarette. I'd probably have to stop soon to preserve what little time I probably had left. I put it out and tossed the butt into the bucket we were using as a trash bin. Benny followed suit. He sat down next to me, looking out at the shimmering sea.

"Come on Revy. You've had more chance to kill him than anyone. What makes this time different?"

That hit a nerve. "The fact that I _want_ to move on! But I can't. Not while he's still alive," I barked. My chest heaved in some air to calm me down.

"Can you live with knowing what you deprived Lee of?"

Amazingly Benny didn't sound judgmental. "Deprived? Rock is the one depriving her. He doesn't give a damn about Lee. Him dying isn't going make a difference," I growled.

"I still think this is a mistake," Benny warned.

"When I want your opinion I'll ask for it," I retorted.

The silence that followed bothered me. "But Benny," I croaked.

"Yeah?"

"If…something does happen to me and the fucker's still alive, I want you to give him a message," I said. I was going to hurt him one way or another.

"What would that be?" he asked.

I took a deep breath. "Tell him to stay the fuck away from Lee," I said.

"You realize…"

"Yes, I do. Just tell him," I demanded.

Benny sighed. "I think that is a mistake," he said.

"Look I get it okay. But I don't want Lee caught up in that crazy superhero shit," I explained.

"Do you think that he'd would put her in that kind danger?" Benny asked.

"It ain't him who's the problem. It's Lee," I said. My fist curled a little.

Benny stood up. He crossed his arms. "I'll tell him, but I can't stop him," Benny answered.

"Yeah, I know. I don't know what can stop him now." Besides my bullet to his stupid face of course.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: I am very much apposed to abstinence only sex education. Having that preached at you for seven years then seeing all pregnant girls at your school really shakes ones perception of it. However I think that if Revy were to teach sex-ed, abstinence might just be a byproduct. Okay, enough politicking. That's for next chapter.

I think a quiet moment between these three was important as we roll into act III. Revy also needed a moment to reflect as well, seeing as we are nearing the end.


	18. Chapter 18

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter XVIII: The Bureaucrat's Dance

I spent my career as a political janitor. When a mission went sour, I was the one to bribe the right officials, coordinate the extraction team, and took the blame. When a mission went right, all glory bypassed me to the team.

I didn't mind then. My country needed my skills and I obliged. Eventually the Cold War ended, leaving the demand for the precision demolition units I built up greatly reduced. Fortunately I was able to survive thanks in large part to a nice long list of contacts I had accumulated over the years. Now I enjoyed the life of a near unquestionable policy advisor.

For grunts and peons like Slade Wilson, it was a slow and painful end. Then in his death throes he went and _fucked_ it up for me. He cornered me between a rock and a hard place like I was a rank amateur. If I didn't give him what he requested, he'd start a slander campaign against me and my reputation would be jeopardized. My career wouldn't have ended, but the unquestioning authority I had acquired would have been over. So I gave him what he wanted, my hope being that he'd go to the press with it. I'd be able to escape under the sheer number of big names indicted and get a nice consulting job at some private firm. An inglorious end to my public service, but I'd survive.

But no, he goes and does the one option that screws me over with nothing more than five dead Australian bureaucrats and indisputable proof that he was the scene. Twenty-five years ago, I'd have applauded the audacity of the operation. Today I wanted to slit his throat.

The capital building was bustling as usual. Bureaucrats, politicians, and lobbyists all danced to the needs of their various and oft competing masters. I walked on down the hall towards my meeting with the Special Joint National Security Committee for a hearing about recent events.

It was a committee founded not long after the superhero phenomenon began. I surprisingly had nothing to do with its formation, which made me nervous.

A blonde woman caught my attention though a series of awkward waves not half way to my destination. She was dressed in the most tacky plaid jacket and skirt combination I had ever see. A thick file was cradled in her arms. Her wire frame glasses looked too large on her especially small face.

I tried to ignore her. She pressed her luck and stepped in front of me. "Greetings Mrs. Waller," she said. A Brooklyn accent was buried under her polite and practiced tone. My sigh couldn't help but remind me how bad the day was already going.

"Dr. Quinzel, what can I do for you today?" I quickly but politely asked. I knew where the girl was going to steer the conversation but I was hoping for her no to go there. I didn't change my pace as I past her.

Quinzel fell in step, desperately trying to edge around me. "Yes, Mrs. Waller. I was hoping to talk to you about my paper and the rumors of this 'Justice League.' I brought another copy if you need one," she said. She handed me the file. "I think it is critical to…"

I took the paper as the doctor started to yap about psychology and superheroics. I resisted the urge to toss it into the nearest trash can for what was probably the third time. "Doctor, you may still be floating on that high from your graduate thesis. But if you think that you have the clout to influence public policy in this country, then you are more insane than your famous patient," I replied. "Go back to Arkham, build up a solid reputation, then come back and we'll talk about bringing you on as an advisor of some sort."

"But Mrs. Waller, please. I think I have some valuable insights on the matter!" the doctor pleaded. I just kept walking. There were far more pressing matters to attend to than

Spending a day talking to a joint intelligence committee was not ideal. Especially an off the record meeting. I gave my briefcase a quick tug. It contained a small political arsenal. Useful for combating the buzzards that hovered around such a meeting.

Such buzzards like Representative Riley Forester. She was some country yokel with enough charisma to whip up a fuss in the Midwest and ride in on a wave of anti-Washington sentiment that swept the nation last November. I had been in Washington a long time. One gets to understand that many of those who used firebrand tactics to win elections tend to be more reasonable when shoved into the realities on the ground in the capital.

Not Forester and her ilk. They were as crazy and dumb as their campaigns promised. I spent my career fighting for democracy and the rule of law (for my country anyway), only to be occasionally slapped with bureaucratic wrangling and political infighting which is why I preferred the authoritarian and lawlessness of the world of black ops. But at the end of the day flames that burn twice as bright and last half as long. As usual I'd be there to clean up the mess.

Until that day though, I had no choice other than to bend to their wishes. Today they wanted to know what happened in Australia. See the Cold War may have been over for some time, but there still were secrets that were still alive and better left undisclosed. One of those secrets I helped keep was the cause of my current problem. The so called Oswald Initiative. A misnomer considering what actually happened but the principle was similar and far broader: knock out the underlying power structure of a government then manipulate events to put in a friendly government. Not necessarily via the democratic process it should be noted.

The initiative had originated in the post-Vietnam foreign policy think tanks around the country. The CIA had used similar tactics in the 1950s but shelved them in favor of assisting with "peacekeeping" operations. It was thanks to them that the Iran hostage crisis became the focal point of the finalization of the initiative. We learned that if you overthrow a popular democracy, you'd better replace it with a damn strong authoritarian power that is loyal or at least willing to obey the United States. It was a strategy that became increasingly popular through the nineties but fell out of favor again with the start of the "war on terror."

While there was some inevitable leakage regarding our activities, one of the better kept secrets was the fact that we had operations under the Oswald Initiative that target our allies. Jack the Ripper, Oktoberfest, Go Go Godzilla, and Wizard of Oz; all continuously updated plans to take down the legally elected governments of our allies. We'd never actually planned to use them, but were meant to be a thought exercise. That's why I was legitimately worried about this meeting. Part of the Oswald Initiative was to have a set up ready to go once the old powers were gone. With Wilson's attack though, there was no such force waiting in the wings.

Australia was unraveling and there was no clear way to prop it up without indicting America. Yet the poor bastards here barely had an idea that it was one of the most successful destabilizing assassinations of all time. There was something to be said sitting across from a rather large committee of the most, or at the very least should be, well informed people on the globe that were totally clueless to such a large tool in their arsenal. And even more tantalizing was that they didn't know it was used. Intoxicating perhaps? I didn't have time to revel in the taste as I had to cover my ass before I could focus on the main problem.

Personally I didn't care for that kind of adolescent Randian reasoning, but sacrificing me to appease the American mob was a bad move for everyone involved. The meeting started and it was slow. Even without the media everything was to goddamn protocol.

It was surprisingly easy to beat them back. There questions limp and flailing in the dark. I was relieved yet a little disappointed not to have gotten a chance to really dance the Bureaucrat's Dance with them.

Things were looking to be wrapping up. I was starting to pack my things. "We have a few more questions for you Mrs. Waller," Riley Forester spoke up before I finished.

"Yes, we've heard rumors that the vigilantes that are running wild in our cities are thinking about forming some sort of…super team," a senator added.

I had heard a similar rumor floating around. Some mysterious individual with plenty of resources was running about trying to create some sort of league for superheroes to join. It sounded to me like a fool's errand. I wasn't exactly an expert on the whole superhero subject, but everything I had read made superheroics out to be some sort of right wing ultra-individualist enterprise. The phrase "herding cats" came to mind.

"We merely want your opinion, Mrs. Waller. If this turns out to be true, should the United States government back this league?"

I took a deep breath.

Outside the capital, I was waiting for my car to be fetched when my phone went off. The number was unknown. I answered it, knowing full well very few people knew about the number's existence.

"Hello, Mrs. Waller," a cool male voice greeted.

"Who are you?" I calmly demanded.

"A fair Question," the man replied.

"Well?"

"I already gave a sufficient moniker, Mrs. Waller. It's too early in our relationship for anything less formal," the man sort of...lamented?

"Cut the bullshit captain clever. What do you want?" I growled.

"Only to let you know that the justice league isn't just a rumor and I do appreciate your support for it. Even if you think it's just theoretical," the man said. That made my heart skip a bit. I kept my composure. I had seen this move before.

"So where is it then, some secret base orbiting the planet?" I retorted. The man laughed a bit at the comment.

"Now there _is_ an idea."

"I'm losing my patients, 'Question.'"

"Right. Well I'd keep an eye on news coming out of the west coast, Mrs. Waller. I'll talk to you later."

The line went dead. I couldn't help but smirk. Whoever that was on the other side of the phone was someone playing the game. It was too early to tell how good he was, but I was intrigued. D.C. was filled with incompetent boobs and quagmire politics. It was exciting to hear someone else have a plan and have the drive to see it through. I wasn't ready to trust him just yet though.

This "Question" could very easily have been pulling my string with an elaborate hoax. It was going to take time, but regardless it felt like something had changed. I wanted to believe his words carried something more than air. That maybe what started as a promise only a handful of years ago was blossoming into something truly fantastic.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: I've always had a certain penchant for conspiracy theories. Not that I put that much stock into them personally. I am a skeptic for a reason after all. But I like the idea of secret black ops organizations playing shadow war while us little people suffer the consequences. And now I realize why I like Greek Mythology. Back on topic: the idea of such conspiracies has a certain dark romance to it that I can't help but wish it to be real in the blackest corners of my heart.

With these two down, we can now bring this all home. five more to go.

Oh, and for anyone interested: The Epsilon Protocols is now up for you all to enjoy.

Hope you all had a good holiday and I'll see you next year.


	19. Chapter 19

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter XIX: The Coming Champion

Night had come and just as the man on the phone told me, there was a car waiting for me out front. It was a black SUV from Mercedes. The drive came out and opened the door for me. I got in, nervous at the prospect.

A kindly looking gentleman was there to greet me. He was up there in years in appearance. But his smile and eyes were still alive with the fire of the most precocious child. The interior was poorly lit so those were the best details I could get. It did still have that fresh off the lot smell to it.

"So you're Mr. Blake I take it?" the man asked. His voice sounded like it carried the very essence of heaven into my ear. It was so friendly and inviting that one could listen to him speak all day even if he said nothing of value.

I nodded very slowly. "Mr. Q said that you're interesting in becoming Mr. Wayne's new assistant of sorts. Is that true?" the man asked in follow up.

"Um...yeah. You're Fox I take it?" I countered.

The man smiled a bit. "Yes I am. You've been informed out Mr. Wayne's interesting hobbies, yes?" Fox said. He leaned forward. His eyes squinted at me, taking in what he could.

"I'm well aware of his hobbies," I answered.

Fox's warm smile turned into a wily grin. "Good, Mr. Blake. I have your first piece of equipment for you to try out," he said. "See, Mr. Wayne's not in as good of shape as he once was. So I've put together something that will help compensate for this. He's also sent you a care package for you as a thank you."

My brow raised. "What did he send?" I asked. It was my turn to lean forward. I was curious as to Wayne's idea of care was. If it was just Cassandra and a bamboo stick, I'd call it there. Done. Quit. Over. Sorry y'all.

But that was unlikely seeing as the girl was across the country in Gotham. Really far away from me. Was I really terrified of a little girl? Yes. She fucking terrified me. She had the cold disposition of her father with her mother's intense dislike of me. My only hope at this point in time was that she'd grow out of it.

"I'm sorry Mr. Blake," Fox said. He brought me back to the moment. "But I tend not to go combing through my boss's mail. It greatly increases trust."

It was kind of funny talking to him in this way. We were playing a game around the truth, both of us knowing exactly what the other meant through incessant vagaries. Yet this was completely straightforward compared to working with Question. With him, it was like reading an open book written in a thousand different codes. You could look at it all you want, but you won't get much out of it.

Yes, playing cutesy in this context with Fox felt incredibly refreshing. It was hard to believe but I trusted this stranger that I just met more than any other person I'd met in the past few weeks. Maybe even years. Was that a little sad? Probably.

"I understand," I said. If this were the same man who'd outfitted Wayne while he was Batman, I didn't blame Fox. He didn't want to be implicated in any of Wayne's adventures. Soon he'd be trying to avoid being implicated in my exploits.

That was a weird thought. I was going to be Batman soon. This was my last test. My last chance to prove myself. I'd failed in Australia and now my home was threatened by Slade. There could be no doubt in my mind how this encounter had to end.

My victory. My vindication.

But what then? The Question thought that I should have a life outside of Batman. It was a nice idea, but I didn't have an education or the money to get started on one. Wayne could pay for me I suppose. To me though, that defeated the whole purpose of having an outside life. I'd find something, I was sure.

"You seem distracted, Mr. Blake," Fox said.

I nodded. "There's just some things in my life that will need sorting soon," I said. Fox nodded.

"You should keep those out of your mind, Mr. Blake," Fox said. "Mr. Wayne prefers his employees to stick with the problem at hand."

"Right. It's just...well...what do you think of Mr. Wayne?" I asked. I wasn't sure why. Nothing wrong with getting some insight from one of Wayne's old friends.

Fox looked rather amused by the question. "Mr. Wayne has always eluded my expectations, in a good way. He's a man who could've spent his life solely in luxury. Not that he hasn't indulged, but overall he hasn't. He decided to instead bare the weight of the world on his shoulders," he answered.

"Until it crushed him," I pointed out. It kind of slipped out. Fox actually looked like he agreed with me.

"It did. Mr. Wayne has always thought himself above mere men. He believed he could have solved all the world's problems by himself. When faced with an enemy who was willing and able to destroy him, especially in the state he was in; there was little any of us could do," Fox said. His voice was rather morbid.

I looked out the window. "I heard about what happened. Did you ever catch the people who did that to him?" I asked.

"Mr. Q said he'd look into it for me, but he hasn't found anything," Fox answered.

"You sound unconvinced," I dryly retorted.

"I am Mr. Blake. Mr. Q is among the most capable men I've ever encountered and a man who'd never give up a chance at solving an impossible problem. Yet four years of looking into who destroyed the Batman, and he hasn't found a thing. If that isn't suspicious, I don't know what is," Fox said.

"Do you think he can be trusted?" I had to ask. It was a valid question. One that I wasn't sure how to answer. The man spoke almost entirely in half truths and obfuscations. His intentions were fairly clear, but I'd yet to really hit a motive beyond wanting to help save the innocent and deliver justice to the wicked. It bothered me deep down. Maybe that was what he was going for.

Fox's eyes shifted a little. "Probably more than you. But that's only because I don't know him as well as you," he finally admitted. Well he wasn't wrong at any rate.

Our ride came to a stop and the two of us exited the car. We were in a remote location in the mountains around LA. The city glistened below us. Dry air brushed over us, causing me to sneeze. It'd been a long time since I'd been such a place.

The place was dominated by a single white building with the Wayne Enterprises logo over the main door. There wasn't much in the way of shrubbery or flowers around the building; only some low key rock garden type decor. Fox pushed past the minimalistic gardening.

I followed him. "Can I ask you one more thing Fox?" I requested as the elder man punched in a security code. The code was accepted and the door slowly parted for us to enter.

Inside Fox continued on. "It couldn't hurt I suppose," he said. The interior was a minimalistic as the exterior. The main hallway was pure, bright white and smelled of antiseptic. Nary a speck of dust or grain of dirt could be found on the floor or wall. Our footsteps echoed all around the corridor. The noise was the only indication of life around. On the ceiling was a series of white orbs that pivoted every which way.

"Thanks. So, did you have anything to do with the vetting process? As it were," I asked. We ended up in an elevator way in the back of the building.

"No, Mr. Blake. All of Mr. Wayne's personal affairs are handled by Mr. Q. He only sent me some of your measurements and that's about all I knew about you until tonight," he said. The elevator began a smooth ride down several levels before gently stopping.

I felt a wave of nerves hit me over the head. My ears started to ring a bit. "I hope I didn't disappoint," I said with a nervous laugh. Fox didn't look to impressed.

"While there's a lot to question Mr. Q about; his dedication to bringing back some order to the world is not one of those things. If he thinks you can help, then I'll follow his lead," Fox said. The Elevator doors opened and I stepped into a small hangar built well under ground. "Welcome to the Angel Site, Mr. Blake."

The place was riddled with tech. Most of it went right over my head. I'll admit to my lack of education. But those things that I did recognize were beyond anything I'd imagined. I think there was even a hovercraft of some sort! The place was like a little kid's army toys were made into real equipment.

For Fox though, it was just another day at the office the way he didn't seem at all awed by the insane things that were literally lying around us. I felt like a child entering a candy store. Maybe it was stupid but it was fascinating. This was a future armory buried just outside a major city in a country at peace.

Fox pulled out a large black case. He motioned for me to come to him. I did so and he opened the case. Inside was a suit of combat armor. It too was black. What made it interesting was the limbs were augmented with a kind of hydraulic gear. The armor was also segmented in the torso area, giving it flexibility. Everything about it smelled of expense.

"This is the Beta equipment, Mr. Blake. We took some of Mr. Wayne's older equipment, retro fitted it, and added a special reactive gear system to it. I designed it to compensate for his numerous injuries in the event that he'd go back to his hobbies. But seeing as he isn't here at the moment to test them out, I guess you'll have to do it for him," Fox explained. I could hear the pride in his voice.

My brow cocked up in suspicion. "Does your team ever ask why Mr. Wayne ever needs this kind of stuff?" I asked.

"When you have the luxury of paying your employees well and providing nice retirement benefits, you'll find that they tend not to ask too many questions," Fox said.

"It must be nice having so many resources," I mumbled. How many years did I scrap in the streets with Question watching me? How many of them could have ended better with some of the stuff he had at his disposal? My fist shook a little at the thought that just a few of these couldn't have been moved my way.

Fox poked my head. "You have all the resources you need right there, Mr. Blake. All the gadgets and gizmos in the world won't make a difference if you can't cut it mentally," he said. It was a nice sentiment. Only a man like Fox could turn stalkerish creeping into noble analysis. But it wasn't making me feel any better. "Hey, Mr. Q has a reason for his actions even if they seem capricious. So why don't you suit up and see how it fits?"

I sighed. "Alright," I said. I pulled out the armor and went over it in my mind. I stripped off most of my clothes. The armor was fairly light. The undersuit fit a little loosely at first. It started tightened up after a minute to more firmly fit my body. That was pretty cool.

Next I put on the armor pieces. They clicked onto the undersuit with a satisfying snap. After that Fox assisted me put on the reactive gear system, attaching them to the joints. It was a light exoskeleton like device, with a battery fitted inside the backplate of my armor. The gears lightly groaned as I moved my arm to get a feel.

Despite it being a fairly simple gesture, I felt the power. I dropped to a fighting stance. Even in the armor I performed the action in lightning speed. A couple of air punches felt really good. My footsteps were also much faster. The reactive gear system seemed to pick up the slightest movement of my muscle and helped me do it faster.

Fox was looking at a computer monitor. He was smiling with pride. "According to this report, your reaction time is up by thirty percent," he said. He leaned back in his chair.

"That's good," I said. "But how long can this last in the field."

The old man looked up to the ceiling, lip talking a moment. "I'd reckon you have five hours of natural battery life. If you turn it off, the system can recharge thanks to your movement. Running about two hundred meters should get you an hour back," he calculated aloud.

I groaned. "Running a kilometer in this won't be fun," I said. It wouldn't have surprised me if that had been the Question's idea. But at this point I was turning the man into some sort of malevolent force in my life. Was he a dick? Yeah. But he was at the end of the day the least of my problems.

"Beat the bad guys fast enough, and you won't have to worry about that now will you?" Fox pointed out. He walked over to a box in the corner. "Now if you think you're ready, here's Mr. Wayne's gift."

"Not yet," I said.

The next several days were spent training and adapting to the suit. It wasn't easy. The suit wasn't like anything I'd worked with before. It was heavy and wasn't totally fitted for me. So I worked at it, setting up a small nest for myself in the strange storehouse. Fox came by every now and again with food.

Before I knew it I had a week to go. I heard footsteps approach but didn't have time to focus on that as I was in the midst of completing a homemade obstacle course. This time was going to be a new record. I had reached the top of the last wall and had to perform a nice dive off the top with a finishing forward roll. A simple maneuver that I completed with ease.

When I looked up, I saw The Question staring down at me. His hidden expression unnerved me a little. I probably never get over it. He did offer me a hand. "Glad to see you're not just lounging about," he said to me.

"Well, you know," I replied. "I've got the fight of my life coming up. Where've you been?"

"Making arrangements," he said as cryptically as ever.

"Concerned that I'm going to lose?" I asked. I forced a goofy smile onto my face.

"Not really. Just making sure the extra fun I invited doesn't get too out of hand," he replied. "As well as get us some additional eyes on the events."

I smiled. "Glad to see you're looking out for me," I said. The question shook his head.

"More for myself," he said. I gathered my reserves and forced myself off the ground.

"For someone so fixated on helping others that seems a bit hypocritical," I quipped. I brushed myself off.

"There's too much at stake now for me to die a stupid death or worse get defeated. Ideals are worth dying for only when said death will be better serve those ideals; and losing while defending those ideals makes them untenable to those who might agree with you," the Question said. He crossed his arms.

"Alright, just teasing you," I said. The man really didn't have much of a sense of humor. Then again if I had to juggle all the plates he did, I probably wouldn't have one. I started to stretch. "So we're good to go then?"

"As good as I can make it," Q replied. He walked towards the back of the room. There was a small video monitoring station tucked away. The Question hit a button and the screens sprung to life. They showed the docks. Things were busy down there at the moment, with lots of workers doing their jobs. "I've set this monitoring system to help coordinate and I plan on littering the area with supply crates a few hours ahead of time. Your best bet to beat back Slade is going to be to outlast him."

I folded my arms over my chest. "What you don't think I can take him with all this?" I pointed out. The Question just shook his head.

"Sorry, but no. Slade's sitting on more experience than Wayne had in his prime. His only weakness is his body's age. That means you're best tactical move is to keep moving and only engage on your terms. That was how we lost last time," Q decreed.

My brow scrunched up a bit. "Is there anything else you do besides think about strategies or tactics or how to win?" I asked.

The Question turned to me. His eyes cut right through me from behind his thick sunglasses. "Is there anything else for me?" he asked. There was a weird sort of venom to his words. They weren't accusatory; more a lashing out. Against what, I wasn't sure except that I'd probably never know. I shrugged.

"Sometimes I find it hard to believe that you're a good guy," I dryly quipped.

Even under his obscuring mask I could see his lack of amusement. "You'll find, Mr. Blake, that I simply work for the good guys," Q retorted without even flinching.

My ears perked with interest. "Is that honesty I hear?" I had to ask.

"Perhaps."

His response would've been cute if it weren't for his constant secrecy. I was interested in picking his brain one day. Ideally he'd just open up to me and confess his darkest secrets. Unlikely perhaps, but there probably wasn't any other way of getting that information.

That was the extent of our conversation for much of the rest of the week. We only shared a couple of quips and the occasional word of advice in preparation for the arrival. I was getting pumped. The suit and I had synced up nicely over dozens of practices. I'd been able to examine some of Slade's training regiments provided from The Question. Victory was mine, all I need was to seize it. And the day finally arrived. Slade was only hours from landing.

I was relaxing before the warm ups would begin. The Question had arrived for one final briefing. He carried a box which he dropped in front of me. "Mr. Wayne wishes for you to have these," he said. It must have been the package Fox had spoke of. Q pushed it to me with his foot. My heart picked up its pace. This was actually kind of exciting. I gently cut open the box and slowly opened the top.

Inside was my inheritance. Had I earned it so soon after failure? This was a bold step, one I thought the Question and Wayne would refrain from making. But there it was, staring up at me like a silent gargoyle. I picked up the all too familiar cowl that struck fear into the most defiant of criminals. It was a mask to remind people of the power of heroes. I had been given the relics of Batman!

The Question took a nervous step back. "You alright?" I asked.

"Just remembering some things I'd rather not," he answered. An odd admission from him.

"Are you sure you're fine?" I followed up. It wasn't like him to be so emotionally vulnerable. Was it the opportunity that I had been looking for? Probably not. Q had already regrouped himself by all appearances.

"I'll survive, Blake. Now get ready, okay," he said. He straightened his collar and walked out of the room. I did as he said. There was some other Batman items to add to the armor.

It was an intimidating piece of equipment. It looked like the suit of armor used by some black knight. If knights had the kind of technology I had of course. Something told me that The Question had something planned. Giving me the title didn't feel right and we both knew it. It wasn't confidence in me that was letting him go through with this. It might be fair to say the man always had something up his sleeve. I got the impression that he found the old phrase wheels within wheels to simplistic to describe his plans or machinations. Or both.

Tonight though, tonight he must have planned a _coup de grâce_ or some other fancy Latin saying. I couldn't help but fret over what that was. It was an unknown that might save me...or kill me. Either were possible and I was keen not dying. Not dying was the best option.

I finished preparing my suit with the Batman iconography just in time to get ready to go. At first I thought the cowl and cape would slow me down. But they turned to be lighter than I thought. It wasn't going to be too much of a hindrance in the coming fight. I was getting more eager with each passing minute.

The Question retrieved me only an hour away from sunset. He took me out of the base and I boarded a discrete van. I couldn't help but get that weird vertigo feeling in my stomach. It formed a cold sweat over my body. I reckoned most people hated that feeling.

For me though, it was just part of the job. Though tonight I felt for those people who don't care for the feeling. I had to put on a show far better than last time. I was able to put those thoughts away for the time being now. Victory was mine. Slade would be in prison before he could even think about destabilizing America. All that was left was to finish the job.

We arrived as night finally came to the city. It was a surprisingly still evening, like it was holding its breath in anticipation. Much like myself, actually. I found a perch overlooking the docks where Slade would arrive.

In the distance I could make out the approaching tanker. There was another tanker already docked nearby. I was advised to stay away. My guess was that was the little addition that Q added for me. Hopefully it was something good.

The Question had scurried off to a command station just outside the battle area. He'd act as my eyes in the sky. Though not exactly as because he hadn't deployed any drones or other devices. I have no doubt he would've it he had the skills to do it.

I was given the briefest of battle plans by my mysterious benefactor. Ever since he laid eyes on the cowl, he'd been distracted. By the time he gave me directions a scant half-hour ago, I was convinced that he'd slipped into full blown paranoia. And not the usual cryptic paranoia that he exuded by default. It was the kind of jump-at-shadows behavior I'd expect from an actual crazy person. The fact that he was able to drive me to the docks at all made me think that he was actually improving.

Then when we arrived and parked. At that point the Question rushed away as if he were scared to breath the air. He fled into what I could only describe as a bunker. It was pretty makeshift in design but it blended into the local environment well enough. I was honestly surprised to hear him over the radio sounding like he was still in control. It was reassuring.

The tanker finally arrived. "He's on the move," Q stated. Right, show time. I dropped to the ground, bracing myself for the impact. With a quick motion I rose to my feet and ran towards the fray to come like a swift wind across grassy steppes.

It took a moment to readjust, using my newly acquired grappling gun to regain altitude. I was able to look down and see my foe. Slade was swaggering down a pathway to the city. He was carrying a quarterstaff over his shoulder. His greyed hair was held in a low ponytail. I again dropped to the concrete, behind the man.

I rose up to my full height. "Slade Wilson," I greeted. My voice was lightly masked. Wilson turned around and cocked his head at me. From what I could tell of his expression he seemed genuinely surprised.

"The Batman has returned, aye? Well this is a surprise," Wilson said. He looked around with a suspicious glance before returning his gaze back to Blake. "I'd actually love to stay and chat but there is much work to be done."

"I'm not going to let you get away with doing here what you did in Australia," I declared.

Slade shook his head. "You don't get it do you? The government I swore to serve, the government who filled my head with ideals of democracy and liberty: that government is nothing but a lie! Those men and women who hide at the top are nothing more than criminals in nicer suites. They need to be brought to justice!" he shot back. No doubt there was some truth to what he said buried inside his words.

"Perhaps you're right Wilson, but tearing down the government is not the right way to bring those people to account," I calmly insisted.

"What would you propose I do? If the system isn't brought down, all those creatures will escape into the shadows, just like every other time someone's tried," Slade retorted.

"Perhaps. However I will not let you kill and then burn down the lives of hundreds of millions of people just to satisfy your ego. If you don't desist now, I will be forced to take you down," I said.

"If he buys this, I'll eat-"

The Question started to whisper. "We could have been brilliant together, Batman," Slade interrupted. He flourished his staff. "But I guess fate has decided against us." I dropped to a low fighting stance. My body tensed up just a little, knowing what was about to happen.

Slade moved first, zigging and zagging across the concrete as he charged towards me. He reached me with a flurry of strikes with his staff. My initial instinct was to dodge and it was right, for once.

I was able to raise up my arms with lightning speed and deflect them with my armoured gauntlets. It was hard for me to even see the attacks coming at me. Thanks to my suit I avoided being concussed so soon into the fight. I took a step forward during a brief break in the blows.

Slade saw this and tried to take a defensive stance. I saw a gap in his attempt and aimed a fist at the crack. It landed square on his side. That blow was followed up by a good series of sibling strikes. The old man let out a couple grunts. There was a certain satisfaction to that sound.

Low? Sure, but after getting the hell kicked out of me last time: it was acceptable. Slade broke away from my onslaught. He backed stepped away, giving a light flourish with his staff. His face was cross. Extremely cross.

Slade went to the holster on his hip and pulled out a high caliber pistol. He aimed it right at my chest. I dove forward to my left, forcing him to readjust his aim on the fly. There was a strange whistling in the air followed by a massive clank of metal striking metal punctuated with the bang of a firearm.

I came out of my roll to find the pistol smoking on the ground with an arrow embedded in its barrel. The arrow for its part had green fletching. The two of us looked up to find where it had come from.

Up on some crates was a hooded figure wielding a bow and arrow. "_Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? _Aye, Batman?" the figure called out he jumped down. He was clad in green. I wasn't aware that Green Arrow knew French.

"Another hero?" Slade drolly asked.

"Yeah, that's right and there's a few more mulling about here as well. Though I'm not actually here for you, Wilson. I just wanted to see the Batman in action," Arrow declared. He pulled out another arrow and lined up a shot. "Lending a hand is just a professional courtesy."

There was a massive explosion to the north. The Green Arrow sighed. "Damn, that's my cue. Be seeing you Bats," he said. The archer took down his weapon and deployed a smoke bomb. I used my cape to cover my mouth and eyes, allowing me to wait out the smoke.

Slade was undeterred by the screen, focusing his attention squarely on me. He charged forward. His shoulders were cocked back with his staff. Another explosion ripped through the air. It threw Slade off balance and allowed for me to regroup.

I fled around a corner and repelled up on top of the crates. I could here some Russian being shouted not far away. Gunfire followed. It was like Roanapur all over again. Only this time I was Batman.

It took me a moment to find Slade on the ground. He'd taken out a couple of goons. I dropped down behind him and throw a batarang at him.

The man barely noticed in time, dodging to the best of his abilities. I charged forward. Slade landed flat footed. He was unable to put up a proper defense. It allowed me to give him a solid gut punch. If it hurt him, he didn't express his displeasure.

A quick move of his arm did catch my attention. Slade tossed sand in my eyes! I had to keep my eyes shut. To an outside observer this was a good tactical move. But in reality, it was a fatal mistake on his part. My mind began to focus on an inner rage. I reached out with my other senses, feeling out every little movement Slade made. My suit would give me an advantage I couldn't have appreciated before.

High strike. Dodge right.

My movement was calm and collected.

Low strike. Dodge left.

My mind burned with anger.

Center strike. Dodge right. Deliver head shot.

Head shot.

Head shot.

Somach shot.

I felt a twisted satisfaction in my pummelling of the man. I'd had enough of this exercise for a lifetime. Unfortunately for him, Slade wasn't the daughter of my mentor so I had exactly zero qualms with beating the crap out of him for this nonsense.

Slade groaned as he stumbled backwards. I heard his staff hit the ground. His boots scraped the ground. There was a nasty sound. I rubbed my eyes to see the man had impaled his side on a fork lift. Blood had started to flow.

Slade looked up to me. His chest heaved up and down, slowly trying to keep him from going into shock. "You are supposed to stand for justice!" he barked. He was foaming at the mouth just a little. "Instead you'll let the real criminals get away!"

I narrowed my eyes at the man. "You were the one who chose this path, Slade. Had you done things through the legal system, I'd be with you all the way," I declared.

"And...and what happens when I got shot down in court because the defendant owns the courtroom?" He fired back.

"It wouldn't matter if you'd presented a rock solid case. The people would have flocked to you. Win or lose, they'd fight to right the wrongs you uncovered," I pointed out.

The soldier huffed. "You're belief in the American people is so quaint."

"Perhaps but when the chips are down, I put my faith in their ability to overcome," I said. A helicopter zoomed in and landed not far from us. Several men in body armour exited the craft followed by a portly African-American woman with the most stern look on her face. The men brushed past me and surrounded

"We'll see how that pays out," Slade said as the men in armor grabbed him. They escorted him to the chopper. The woman approached me. She kept a cool appearance as she reached out her hand to me.

"Thank you, Batman," she said. I shook it. Even with the padding on my hand I could feel the firmness of her shake. "I'm Amanda Waller and I'll be taking care of Slade from here."

"You with the government?" I asked. Waller shrugged.

"Close enough," she answered.

"Will he get a fair trial?" I asked.

Waller halfheartedly nodded. "Once we've accounted for all his damages and patched any leaks he might have made, he'll get his day," she said. I couldn't help but have a disdainful look on my face. "It isn't ideal, but that's just the way our world goes. Injustice met with injustice. That's why you're here though, to make sure that real justice can be obtained."

She turned back to the helicopter. "I hope not to run into you too often. I'd hate to be the one hauling you off," she said. The woman climbed aboard and flew off.

I looked up to the sky for a moment to watch the craft leave, leaving a smoke and haze behind to cover the evening air. It didn't feel right. The man may have not given a damn about the consequences, but he was right. People like Waller should be brought to justice; her cohorts' crimes brought out to the public for punishment. However I didn't wish to topple the system just for a few to go to prison, or worse not even get convicted.

Police sirens sounded all around in the distance. But it was over. It was finally over, for whatever that was worth. I looked up to see Green Arrow standing on some crates stacked up next to me. He shot me a light salute before disappearing. He must have finished what he'd come for. I'd have to ask Q about it. Odds are it was something totally insane.

The time had arrived for me to head home. I turned around to find a little girl clothed in a dirty spring dress made of the...oddest patterned fabric I'd ever seen. Her eyes were read and her lips constantly trembling. She hadn't noticed me yet. I pulled off my cowl and approached her. Looks like not all my work was done.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

"Mama," was all she could muster in response. Crap, did something happen to her mother? Did I have something to do with this? My heart sped up but I brought it under control. I was Batman, damn it. I could still do something!

"Is your mom in trouble?" I asked. The girl nodded with pure excessive emotion. "Can you show me where? I can help."

The girl pointed behind her. I replaced my cowl and started off to help the girl's mother, keeping an eye on the kid all the while.

To Be Continued...

* * *

A/N: Been a while? Yep. Life does that some times. I'll save my thoughts on things for next time. Because I'll have a lot to say then.


End file.
